


An Angel in Marble

by HarkaSun



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Adoptive Father Ragnor Fell, Alec Lightwood Character Development, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec Lightwood had a garbage childhood, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art Student Magnus Bane, Character Development, Dysfunctional Alec Lightwood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Retreat, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Jace Wayland Being an Asshole, Kissing, Law Student Alec Lightwood, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Magnus Bane Has PTSD, Magnus Bane had a garbage childhood, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Non-Explicit Sex, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Robert Lightwood Being an Asshole, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Slowest of all Burns, Supportive Isabelle Lightwood, idiots to lovers, skiing vacation, talking about big real-world issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 96,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarkaSun/pseuds/HarkaSun
Summary: Magnus Bane is a struggling art student searching for inspiration on his final piece. Alec Lightwood is a suffering law student caught in a tangle of lies to protect himself from an oppressive family. Dragged into a Lightwood yearly retreat to a lodge in the French Alps, Magnus and Alec must make a convincing couple in order to protect Alec from the prejudice of his family.With the ghosts of his past at his back and a journal filled with so many unanswered questions under his arm, Magnus works through his creative slump and simultaneously fights to save Alec from a terrible fate. Chipping away at Alec’s hard exterior is a laborious task, but Magnus seeks out truth and yearns for life and the young law student may yet help him in uncovering his masterpiece.
Relationships: Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Maryse Lightwood/Robert Lightwood
Comments: 324
Kudos: 480





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings All!
> 
> Hopefully this will be a substantially long multi-chapter, but there are several warnings for reoccurring themes throughout the whole story. I will list them chapter-by-chapter in these beginning notes. Please take care of yourselves and avoid triggers.
> 
> WARNINGS: nightmares, PTSD, mental health problems, implied dark past

_“I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free” —_ Michelangelo

* * *

Magnus Bane can feel his creativity draining away.

It has been happening all week, perhaps even as far back as when he and Dorothea ended their relationship last month. It had been good while it lasted, almost a full year of bliss, but eventually Magnus had broken it off. Dorothea had been upset, understandably, but she understood that she and Magnus just didn’t fit.

They didn’t have the fireworks. Magnus has been without love before, but this time is strange. The spark of his art seems to have been lost with his relationship status.

The woman who sits in the centre of the circle is stunning, dark eyes and long hair cascading down her shoulders, and, for the life of him, Magnus can’t seem to draw her properly. He hates the way her hands are placed, he hates her strangely angled knees, hates the way her expression is set, plump lips and sultry eyes. He keeps flicking to a new page, switching between charcoal and graphite.

Nothing he can do seems to be good enough, not for his standards anyway. It isn’t real. He knows that the problem is her unnatural way of posing. He could never work with models.

Everyone else is doing well enough, busy stood at their easels or perched on their stools with their sketchpads. Catarina glances over to Magnus from behind her easel, frowning at Magnus’s still hand over the pages of his sketchbook. Magnus meets her gaze, huffing in irritation and twirling his pencil between his smudge-stained fingers.

A hand drops to his shoulder, makes him glance up and he sees Ragnor leaning over him.

“Mags, take a break, okay?”

Magnus huffs and nods, standing and wandering across the room to his work desk. He throws his sketchpad down upon the wooden surface, his pencil and charcoal with it. Ragnor comes to sit opposite him, tilting his head softly.

Despite being the lecturer in drawing, Ragnor isn’t only a teacher. When Magnus was fourteen, Ragnor Fell had become his adoptive father. He had rescued Magnus from flitting between a life in an orphanage that couldn’t cope with his needs, and a life of running away into poverty and homelessness. He had been the one to encourage Magnus’s appreciation of sculpture, despite it conflicting with his own profession and preferences ever so slightly.

“Magnus,” Ragnor murmurs, leaning over his table. “I can see you’ve been struggling for the past week. Is this because of what happened with Dot?”

Magnus huffs and drops his pencil on his table. “I’m fine. It’s not because of Dorothea. We weren’t right together. This isn’t a relationship thing, I just… I can’t work with models. I don’t want poses, I want _life_. I just… I need the right setting, the right people. I don’t want forced perfection.”

“You need a change of pace,” says Ragnor, setting a hand to his shoulder. “Do something for me: take a sabbatical. I’ll clear it with the higher-ups. I’ll get you a new sketchpad or a journal and you can start fresh and do what you do best. Capture the world. Find life.”

“You don’t have to get me a new sketchpad,” says Magnus, glancing up to him, gratitude in his eyes. “I’ve got one that I haven’t started yet. I’ve been meaning to get into it for a while…”

Ragnor regards him a long moment, finally nodding his acceptance. He drops a kiss to the crown of Magnus’s head, patting his shoulder.

“Art isn’t about making a copy, Mags,” says Ragnor into his hair. “Find something in this world, find emotion and make something of it.” He runs a hand through dark locks. “Just… think on that, okay?”

Magnus nods softly.

“Okay. I’ve got another lecture this afternoon, but I’ll see you at home for dinner, alright?”

At Magnus’s agreement, Ragnor casts him a gentle smile and turns back to the rest of his students. Magnus packs his things into his satchel bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He exchanges a brief word with Catarina when his friend beckons him over, assuring her that he was okay, that he just lacks the creativity right now.

She puts a hand to his shoulder, makes him promise that their plans to go out tomorrow night are still intact. Magnus nods, tells her to dress to impress as he’s managed to get them into a club around the corner from the New York University. She grins, tells him to behave. Magnus just chuckles softly and casts her a wink as he walks away.

It’s a short walk home once he leaves the building. He and his adoptive father have a place just around the corner from the academy, the penthouse apartment of Nightingale Towers. It’s conveniently placed for Ragnor’s work and Magnus’s school. Magnus says hello to one of their neighbours as she exits the building.

Taking the elevator to the top floor, Magnus wanders to the door of their apartment, unlocking and pushing it open. He hangs his satchel bag up on a hook by the door, slinging his jacket up with it. Making a detour to the kitchen, he hastily makes a herbal tea.

He eyes the shelves in the living room as he walks through on the way to his room. In amongst Ragnor’s books and scattered pages of drawings, Magnus’s sculptures are proudly displayed. There are a lot from his younger days, clumsy models of clay that steadily improve over time, progressing into plaster and wood and finally through to stone, like the last eight years of Magnus’s life laid out along the shelves. He moves along to his room, gently toes the door shut behind him.

Inside, Magnus wanders around, sipping his tea. He settles finally on the windowsill, staring out at the street below, bustling with life. A child runs down the street ahead of her parents, trips on an uneven hitch in the pavement. Her mother comes and picks her up off the concrete, her father pressing a kiss to her temple and inspecting her grazed knee.

 _Life_ , Magnus thinks fondly, takes another sip of tea. A pang of jealousy clenches his heart and he shakes his head, finishes his tea. He can’t shake it, however. He can’t shake that envy and he turns, setting his mug down on the bedside table.

Magnus eyes the wardrobe, gaze narrowed as the thoughts rage his mind. His body moves on instinct and he opens the doors, kneeling down and groping around the bottom. Fingers skim over a myriad of shoes before they find what he’s looking for. A box, tucked away in the corner.

It is old, at least fifty years spent in use by his mother’s ancestors, another thirty or so being used by his actual mother. She had deemed it a suitable sewing box. Now, it held everything that remained of her on this earth.

Bracing the sides with both hands, Magnus hauls it out, bringing it to sit cross-legged on his bed. The latch is stiff after so many years. The lid creaks when Magnus pushes it up, setting it back carefully and staring down at the contents laid out on the plush velvet.

His fingers brush over the objects, skimming a worn metal button, the smooth surface of a spiralling shell—no bigger than his palm— and the frayed down of a colourful feather belonging to a bird not found within several thousand miles of here. There is a work of embroidery, still in the hoop, the fabric coarse and textured beneath his fingertips. Despite everything, Magnus smiles.

He can remember his mother embroidering this. Magnus, just a child, had been sat at her feet, staring up at her, watching her sew. Magnus had imagined her creating something beautiful, her practiced, elegant fingers steady and sure with every stitch. She had caught him looking, cast him a rare smile. She hardly ever smiled. Magnus can remember how his heart had warmed when she honoured him with one.

Now, Magnus runs his fingers over the thread, following the nonsensical lines and patterns. The variations in colour and type—even thickness—of thread are baffling. Whatever his mother had seen in this, Magnus can’t make anything out. Perhaps she saw something beautiful. Magnus doesn’t see anything but confusion and the reminder of how distressed and dazed his mother had become towards the end of her life.

Shifting it aside as if to put it out of his mind, Magnus reaches to the lowest object, the one the others are all resting upon, and pulls it out. It is a journal, suitably thick and leather-bound and clasped with a golden-bronze buckle. He carefully unbuckles it, turning the cover to unveil the front page.

There is a message there, written in a clumsy hand, smudges and splattered droplets of ink across the page.

_For my darling Magnus,_

_With all my love_

Magnus swallows hard, flipping through the pages. They are worn and tanning and not quite smooth, textured in a way that fit perfectly to Magnus’s sketching style. He turns the pages with caution, looking for any sign his mother had ever left a mark on anything but the front page.

“I know you wanted me to use this,” says Magnus, uttering in Indonesian as always when he spoke to whatever remained of his mother. “I’m sorry I never did. I couldn’t even bring myself to touch this box for years after what happened, even though it’s all I had left of you…”

He blinks the warmth back from his eyes. He looks through the pages too often. There is nothing there, he should be satisfied with that by now after so many times being disappointed by . Closing the journal, his hand presses firmly against the cover, hard enough for the buckle to leave marks in his palm, and brings it up to hug cautiously against his chest.

“Mother, please,” he whispers, his eyes squeezing shut tightly. “Please… tell me you’re there…”

He waits.

His mother had always said that, even when people left the world, their essence remained in a place or an object. They were never truly gone.

“ _Sometimes_ ,” she had whispered to Magnus when he asked how she knew this, “ _I can hear them. Sometimes I feel them with me. There is nothing to fear from them, little one. As long as you show them respect and you don’t look behind you, you’ll be safe._ ”

In time, Magnus had come to understand that this was just his mother’s illness. She couldn’t hear spirits. It was just in her head. Still, Magnus had believed her. Even now, sometimes he still believes her. Her belief had been real, even if it originated from her sickness. Spirituality is essentially religion in its own right.

There’s no intention to, but Magnus falls asleep with his mother’s journal against his chest, a hand splayed over the cover. Naps are a vital pastime for him. The medication he is on makes it difficult for him to sleep most nights, so he will occasionally fall asleep at odd times in odd places.

When he sleeps, Magnus dreams of her. So often now, he dreams of her. He hears her voice in his ear, smells her shampoo, feels her touch on his cheek. She is smiling at him this time. It curls the corners of her mouth, softens her eyes. Still, Magnus shies away.

“ _Mama, what are you—?_ ”

“ _Hush, my darling boy. It’s okay… You’ll be safe now._ ”

“ _No. Mama, don’t go… Wait, please!_ ”

“Magnus!”

The voice startles him upright, light flooding his senses as his eyes snap open. Sweat pricks his temples. Sunlight streams through the windows. Hands clutch his arms and hold tight, shaking him slightly, and drawing his gaze up to Ragnor, sat on the edge of his bed.

“It was a dream,” says Ragnor, stroking a hand over his shoulder. “It’s just a dream, it’s okay. Was it your mother again?”

“I…” Magnus begins, swallows and breaths hard, fighting to regain some sense of reality. He often fell asleep during the day and almost always woke bleary and confused. This was no exception. “Yeah, it… it was weird…”

Ragnor lightly touches the side of his head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Magnus frowns softly, unclenches his hands from the duvet when he realises he’s clutching too tight. “She was… smiling at me. She was telling me to stay still. She said she was going to make the pain stop and then she just… she started to disappear like the dark was swallowing her.” He rakes a hand into his hair, sighing slowly. “It was just… weird.”

His adoptive father strokes a gentle hand into his hair. “Okay… Okay, you don’t have to say anything else tonight, or ever if you don’t want to… Dinner’s ready now if you’re up for it. You should eat something.”

Magnus nods, reaches out to move himself and his finger brush upon the cover of the journal. With a shock, he realises that his mother’s things are scattered across his duvet. “Oh,” he breathes out, reaching to take each item in his hands, placing them carefully back in the box.

“It’s okay. Nothing’s broken,” Ragnor assures, though he doesn’t intervene. He knows Magnus doesn’t like other people touching his mother’s things. He lets Magnus take his time, only speaks again when he pauses on replacing the journal. “That book… Is that the one you were talking about today? Your mother’s journal?”

Magnus glances down to it, held tentatively in both hands. “She only ever wrote one thing in it,” he admits, swallowing hard as he opened to the front page for Ragnor to see. “She never used it… I think she meant for me to write in it, draw in it… I don’t know why she wrote that.”

Ragnor sets a hand to his cheek. “You should. Let it be your new place to draw during your sabbatical.” He hesitates a moment, his thumb skimming across Magnus’s cheek. “She loved you, Magnus. I know it was hard to see, but I know that she did… This is surely proof of that.”

Magnus bites back his frustration, his resentment at a mother who never showed much of anything but confusion and fear, stuck somewhere between living and dying. Magnus shut his eyes briefly, stubbornly. He didn’t want to think about her anymore today. He simply sets the journal on his bedside table.

“You said something about dinner?”

His adoptive father smiles softly, helping him up from the bed and setting a hand to the small of his back in a show a support. Magnus glances up to return his smile faintly. Ragnor wanders out of the room, heading for the kitchen and Magnus follows, hesitates in the doorway and glances back.

The journal is still and lifeless on his bedside table.

“Mama…” he utters under his breath, but, if some spectre of his mother had lingered to enter his dreams, she is gone now.

Magnus sighs, takes the handle of the door to pull it shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec Lightwood is drinking his way through a night out with his siblings and preparing his alcohol tolerance for a week away at a family retreat. In the club, he meets someone who, for better or worse, will change his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos or bookmarked on the last chapter.  
> WARNINGS: sexual content, language

Institute is packed.

Pounding music sends vibrations through the floor, the entire building seeming to shake with the thump of the beat. Strobe lighting flashes on and off, occasionally throwing the room into darkness only to send another, blinding illumination seconds later.

Alec slams another shot back to a cheer from his siblings, grimacing softly as it burns going down. Jace pounds the table in exhilaration, already fairly drunk. Isabelle remains more composed, whistling slowly to show that she is impressed with her brother’s display. It isn’t often that they get a night off, so any spare moment outside of their studies is a celebration.

Institute is their regular haunt for such moments.

As students putting themselves through the programme at New York University, the siblings have little time to let loose. All three are completing prestigious courses, Isabelle with pathology, Jace with accounting, and Alec with law. Alec’s father is a banker, his mother a lawyer. They have expectations to uphold.

Alec downs another shot, breathing out sharply and shaking his head after swallowing.

“Come on, Light _weight_ ,” Jace chuckles, grabbing his arm and squeezing hard on his bicep. “We gotta get your tolerance up before the retreat. You’ll need it.”

Alec grimaces and tosses his shot glass down on their table.

He is no stranger to the difficulties of the annual family retreat. It’s the most pretentious thing his family could have thought of. Every year since he and Isabelle were old enough to stand, their parents had flown them all off to their lodge in the alps for an entire week every winter holiday. Alec’s grandparents were always slightly racist and asked way too many personal questions, his parents nagged him all week about any potential girls in his life.

It was an entire week of skiing and making small talk and pretending to find it interesting when his grandmother told the same exact story about the time she had met _The_ President Donald Trump for the billionth time. God, how Alec hated that story. How he hated having to say “he’s fine” when his grandmother asked him what he thought of the president.

It was hell. Alec didn’t want to go as far as saying that he hated it, because he knew how privileged he was to have parents who could not only afford a holiday, but who actually owned a holiday home. As pretentious as they were, his parents and grandparents’ professions _had_ secured them a fair amount of wealth over the years. Alec supposes he should be grateful.

Jace smacks his arm suddenly. “Oh, shit, look!”

Alec follows his gaze hazily, blinking hard and frowning as he scans the mass of dancers on the floor. “What?”

“That guy, the Asian dude by the pillar. That’s Magnus Bane.”

Isabelle mutters a “subtle, Jace” into her glass, and Alec cranes his head to get a better look. The man that Jace describes is stood leaning against a column that connects the floor and the ceiling, talking easily to a young black woman who has her back to them.

The strobe lighting bounces off his many items of jewellery, studs and rings in his ears, a myriad of long necklaces that hang over his partially exposed chest, rings of all different kinds dotting his fingers. His shirt is unbuttoned to almost halfway down his chest, burgundy with intricate gold embroidery patterned upon the fabric. Black jeans hug his legs, a black and gold belt loose around his narrow waist.

He smiles at the woman he is conversing with, a hand smoothing back through his hair. The dark strands yield gracefully beneath his touch. Alec catches a hint of colour at the new movement, streaks of blonde highlights through the long locks.

“Who’s Magnus Bane?” Alec asks, swallowing past a lump in his throat as his eyes roam the man up and down, determined to remember as much detail as he could. He knows how useful they could be for later fantasies and it was unavoidable that his mind would snap to the image of this man, so he may as well get an accurate reading.

“You haven’t heard me talking about him? He’s one of Clary’s friends at the academy, in his senior year like us. They way Clary talks about his relationships, the guy gets around.”

Isabelle snorts ungracefully. “Yeah, we know what that’s code for. Quit slut-shaming the poor guy.”

“Yeah, but I heard he’s bi, so he _is_ a slut,” says Jace. “Look at his fucking shirt. Why even bother wearing anything at all?”

“Jace!” Isabelle chides, giving his arm a firm punch and causing their adoptive brother to wince and exclaim in irritation. “That is a shitty stereotype. Don’t fucking talk like that. You sound like dad.”

Alec lets Jace’s insulting words slide by. He isn’t about to correct his brother. It’s like when his parents or grandparents make some offhand comment about ‘the gays’ and Alec has to sit there and bite his tongue and pretend it doesn’t bother him. He is well practiced in lying now. He stares at Magnus Bane, blocking out Jace’s words to focus his attention on the young man.

He’s stunning, Alec doesn’t try to deny it to himself this time. His eyes glint under the lights and Alec realises suddenly that he’s wearing makeup, dark lines around his eyes, flicking up at the corners in short wings, bordered with gold pencil. His eyelids are powdered in the same, glistening gold. Alec glances to Isabelle, realising that she does her makeup similarly, except without the glitter.

Dark eyes drift slightly and stop abruptly. It takes Alec a moment to realise that Magnus is staring directly at him. A careful smile cants the corner of his mouth and Magnus lifts a hand, giving Alec a short, almost shy wave in the form of undulating his fingers. Alec feels a flush rise to his cheeks and he turns away quickly, fighting back a smile.

Isabelle stands, downing her drink and saying something about going to dance. Alec quickly loses sight of her in the crowd. Jace bullies Alec into doing another shot before he too stands, announcing he’s received a text from his girlfriend that she’s in the club. Jace pats Alec’s shoulder and disappears in search of her.

Alec goes to the bar.

Waving the bartender over, he orders a water, downs it in a few quick gulps and wipes the back of his hand to his mouth. The music rattles his bones and he rubs a hand into his hair, tousling his unruly locks. There is movement in his peripheral. A figure leans against the counter beside him.

Bejewelled fingers drum upon the wooden surface.

“And who are you?”

Alec glances up, swallows hard and almost chokes when he sees Magnus beside him. An easy smile comes to the man’s lips. Closer now, Alec can see that, although his eyes are dark, they are an unmistakable gold even under the dim, on and off lighting of the club.

“I—Alec,” he says, stammering over his own name. “I’m Alec.”

“Magnus,” the man introduces himself in turn, holding a hand out to Alec, knuckles facing up as if expecting Alec to kiss them. Alec doesn’t. He simply takes Magnus’s hand, shaking a little awkwardly at the strange angle. Magnus quirks an amused kind of smile. “May I buy you a drink?”

Alec hesitates. “Yeah,” he says against his better judgement. “Nothing alcoholic though. I’m cutting myself off.”

“Probably wise,” says Magnus, sliding onto the stool beside Alec’s own. He waves the bartender over, orders something that Alec doesn’t recognise, before golden eyes are on him again. “Tell me about yourself, Alec.”

To even his surprise, Alec does so. He starts with his university course, talks until their drinks arrive. Magnus is easy to talk to.

Their drinks come in short, rounded glasses. The liquid inside is pinkish purple in colour, a layer of ice cubes floating on the surface creating a sheen on condensation around the glass. A sprinkling of sugar dusts the rim, broken up only by a thick semi-circle of grapefruit wedged onto the rim.

 _Only gay guys order pink stuff_ , Jace’s voice rings in Alec’s ears.

“Don’t look so worried,” says Magnus, casting him a smile. “It’s non-alcoholic.”

Alec nods, takes the drink in hand. Magnus’s glass clinks against his own, startling him a little.

“So, what about you?” Alec asks hastily before he drinks. “What’d you do?”

Magnus swallows an easy mouthful of his drink. “I’m studying at the Brooklyn Academy of Arts. Sculpture mainly, but it requires a heavy amount of sketching.” He huffs his amusement. “I’m actually on the cusp of taking a sabbatical. My lecturer insists I take at least a week.”

“Where are you going?” Alec asks, drinking heavily from his glass. “This is good,” he murmurs, enjoying the sweetness of it.

Magnus smiles. “I’m glad you like it.” He absently sips his drink. “And I don’t know. Maybe nowhere… I don’t think I could afford anything too extravagant, and I don’t like to ask my dad for money.”

Alec tilts his head. “Why not?” he asks before he can consider he might sound extremely pretentious. His father had always provided for him, but he knew that not everyone was as financially well off as his family. Magnus probably already thought he was some spoiled rich kid, what with him taking law and being at NYU. “Shit, sorry, that was dumb.”

“It’s fine,” says Magnus. “I suppose I feel like him adopting me was the best thing he could give me. Seems pointless to ask for anything else when I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” says Alec, struggling to hide his surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were adopted.”

Magnus waves him off. “Why are you apologising? There’s no need.”

Alec says nothing. He feels like an asshole now for assuming that Magnus is adopted because his real parents didn’t want him or because they were dead. Maybe it’s true, but he shouldn’t be insinuating it by offering his sympathies. Magnus clearly doesn’t appreciate being tiptoed around.

“Anyway,” says Magnus, “enough about me. I’m not planning on talking about myself all night.” He stares at Alec a moment, maintaining eye contact as he takes a sip of his drink, stirring the liquid around with his pinkie. His lips purse as he sucks the liquid from his skin and Alec might be staring a little. “Do you mind if I’m upfront with you for a moment?”

Alec swallows hard. “Go for it.”

“Alec, I think you’re very attractive and I’d like to take you out sometime if you’d allow it.” Magnus blinks slowly, gives him a crooked smile. It’s so endearing that Alec is honestly ready to melt on the spot. “What’d you think? I’m free most nights. Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?”

It takes a moment for Alec to register what he’s being asked. His brain is in overdrive. Magnus wants to go on a date with him. Alec can’t tell him now the lie that he tells everyone else, that he’s not gay, or the actual truth, that he’s still in the closet. The words that form on his lips next are not something Alec thinks through in the slightest.

“How about we, uh, we just find somewhere now?”

Magnus blinks hard, tilting his head a little. “It’s almost midnight.”

“No, I mean…” says Alec and he’s almost shaking now. “Not dinner, I mean we could… reconvene in the bathroom or something…”

Magnus’s eyes widen and a disbelieving kind of smile crosses his features. “Wow, you’re just… you’re going right for it, huh?”

“Sorry, is that not—? I guess it was kinda abrupt of me.”

“No, it’s fine,” says Magnus, his hand coming to lightly touch Alec’s wrist. He smiles softly and Alec knows he’s lost. “It’s just a little unexpected. I didn’t imagine law students to be into hooking up with strangers in a club bathroom.”

Alec swallows hard. “Guess not… but I am… into it, I mean… if you are.”

Magnus smirks, takes his hand. “Well, come on then.”

His hand is warm and soft and fits in Alec’s perfectly. When Alec allows himself to be pulled to his feet, he sees that Magnus is slightly shorter than him, just by a few inches. It’s all too easy to imagine how they would fit if they were pressed together.

Magnus glances back to smile at him as he leads Alec through the mass of dancers that congregate on the floor, and Alec forgets that he doesn’t do this. He forgets that he needs to be straight, or at least act as such, so he lets Magnus pull him along. Magnus’s smile is dazzling and ingenuous. Alec forgets he shouldn’t be doing this.

The bathroom lighting is stark and startling and Alec blinks hard to adjust his eyes to the new glare. The room is empty. There are urinals lined up along one wall, sinks immediately in front of Alec on the far wall, three doors to their left. The doors are substantially heavy and wooden, reaching completely from floor to ceiling. Magnus leads Alec inside the nearest one, sliding the latch over to lock them in.

Alec stares as he turns, wasting no time in lifting his hands to Magnus’s neck, kissing him so hard that he stumbles and is pushed back against the locked door. If he hesitates, he knows it will never happen. Vaguely, he thinks he’s probably kissing too hard. Magnus grunts softly, his hands coming to Alec’s chest to gently guide him back.

“Easy,” he utters, breathing a little elevated.

Alec swallows hard. “Sorry, I’m—I’m a little nervous.”

Magnus gives him a soft smile, his hands falling to Alec’s hips, pushing his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “Well, that’s okay… Can I help make you more comfortable? Where are you strongest…? I’m sorry if this is presumptuous of me, but you don’t seem like you usually top.”

Alec’s throat is so tight it’s a wonder he can breathe, let alone speak. He can’t tell Magnus the truth. He can’t risk the man walking away from him now. “That obvious, huh?”

Magnus lifts a hand to Alec’s cheek, a thumb smoothing across his skin. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

Alec doesn’t know what Magnus is implying when he says that, but he nods regardless. He lets Magnus exchange their positions, so Alec is the one being held against the door, Magnus’s hands insistent and guiding on his hips. He knows what he’s doing, Alec can tell.

Magnus is the one to instigate the kiss this time. He works in direct contrast to Alec’s harsh press, his lips soft and steady as they push and move against Alec’s own.

Alec forgets that boys don’t kiss other boys.

Alec forgets all of his father’s words, all of his grandparent’s snide remarks.

Alec forgets everything that isn’t Magnus’s lips on his own, Magnus’s hands busily working at his belt, Magnus’s kisses moving slowly downwards across his neck and throat.

So, when Magnus sinks to his knees in the stall, coaxes Alec’s jeans down over his hips, kisses the soft skin just below his waistband, Alec doesn’t say a word to stop him. He forgets that he shouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. His hand comes to rest lightly upon Magnus’s head.

Magnus looks up at him, gold irises inquiring. “Alec, do you want this?”

“Yeah,” Alec whispers, half a gasp, and he swallows hard and nods. “Yes… please.”

Magnus hums in appreciation, kisses below Alec’s naval again moving lower with each languished kiss, his lips parting more and more with each one. Alec bites his lip so hard that he worries for a moment that he might draw blood. Magnus’s mouth is so soft around him and his tongue is so warm and it’s such fucking _bliss_ that Alec actually gasps his name.

He is fairly sure he blacks out for a good minute.

When he comes to, his hands are loose in Magnus’s hair and his head is pressed so hard against the door that he’s surprised he hasn’t knocked a hole in it. His chest still heaves, breaths elevated from the rush, but the high is fading gradually. Magnus gently untangles Alec’s hands from his hair, reaching back to grab a wad a toilet paper, wiping his mouth as he stands, discarding the tissue into the toilet as he blinks up at Alec.

“Fuck,” Alec mutters, tucking himself back into his pants, hastily zipping and buttoning his jeans up again. Magnus’s eyes are low and seductive and his lips are pink and plump. “Fuck…”

“Well, that’s not ideal,” Magnus jokes, and Alec can see a hint of anxiety in his confident façade.

“No, I—I didn’t mean,” Alec begins and shakes his head, fighting to slow his breaths. “It was good. _You_ were good, really fucking good. I just… I’m sorry, I’m a bit overwhelmed…”

Magnus cants his head, sympathy touching his eyes. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, reaching to touch Alec’s arm, warm fingertips trailing down his bare skin and erupting goose bumps in their wake. “Take your time. If I could put my number in your phone, then we can talk whenever you’re ready to—”

“No, I—I’m sorry, I can’t,” says Alec, shifts past Magnus to unlock the stall door, giving him a quick glance. “I’m sorry.”

Alec runs.

It’s shameful, but he can’t face anyone right now. He can’t face Magnus and those querying, golden eyes gazing up at him, lush, pink lips murmuring his name, asking for consent. Alec can feel the soft locks of his hair even now, the rough prickles where his head is shaved at the sides, a phantom touch against his fingertips.

Upon leaving the bathroom, he weaves his way towards the exit, apologising as he brushes against dancers on his way out. The air outside hits cool and brisk and he heaves in deep gasps of it as he fights to calm down. He knows how badly he’s screwed up. He knows he can’t take it back.

He just has to hope that he never sees Magnus again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Understandably upset and confused from the aftermath of his first meeting with Alec, Magnus tries to take his mind from the young man with an evening out at the academy's termly exhibit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this has gotten practically no attention, but for those of you who are reading this, firstly: thank you so much for kudos and bookmarks, etc. (it honestly means so much to me, so thank you), and secondly: rest assured I will do everything I can to keep up motivation for this story and continue to give regular updates.
> 
> WARNINGS: mentions of sexual content, actual sexual content

Magnus slams the door of the apartment shut, kicking his shoes off in a rage. He lifts his hand to rake his fingers against his scalp, clutching into his hair.

He had known it was a bad idea. Why couldn’t he have just listened to his head instead of following the whims of his stupid, lovestruck heart? Alec was tall and beautiful and a law student at NYU and Magnus had become immediately infatuated with him. He had caught the young man’s eye across a crowded room, his smile had made Alec blush and look away.

It had been like something out of a wonderful romance novel. That was always Magnus’s undoing. Every time he met someone like that, in a picture-perfect situation, he fell head-over-heels and his brain stopped making the decisions, his heart taking full control of every action.

It had never gone this far before. Magnus had never given someone pleasure like that before even hearing their surname. Of course it was this one time that Magnus would manage to screw it up. Of course that gorgeous boy sat alone at the bar was too good to be true. Worse than Alec running from him was his anxiousness before they began. Magnus had failed to see the signs, but now he understood what had happened.

“Magnus?” a sleep-heavy murmur reaches his ears and he turns to see his dad stood in the arched entrance to the living room, dressed down in his pyjamas, red tartan sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

“Hey,” Magnus utters, swallowing hard. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just—”

“—doing one of your signature door-slams?” says Ragnor, his eyes soft and sympathetic, if not a little dark with sleep. “Come on. Let me make you some tea. You can tell me about it.”

Magnus shakes his head, forcing a slanted smile. “About what? I’m fine.”

“Mags, you only slam doors when you’re upset. Don’t try and lie to me, I know you too well.” Ragnor came to gently clasp Magnus’s arm, lifting the touch to his cheek. “Whatever happened, you can talk to me. I’m right here. You can tell me anything, okay?”

Magnus swallows hard, ducking his gaze. “I… I messed up. I thought…” He wipes a hand to his eyes, inhaling sharply. “I think I took someone’s virginity. I thought he had done it before, he acted like… and then I tried to give him my number and he just ran away from me.”

Ragnor regards him a long moment. “He gave you consent, didn’t he?”

Magnus nods quickly. “Yeah, it was his idea in the first place and I asked twice more beforehand.”

His adoptive father narrows his eyes in sympathy. “It sounds like you just got unlucky. I think this boy was probably just looking for someone to have sex with.”

“I—I didn’t actually have sex with him. It was just like… just oral stuff.”

“You can say blowjob, Mags.”

“Okay, fine, I gave him a blowjob in a bathroom stall. Happy?”

Ragnor sighs and shakes his head. “No, I’m not happy, because you’re not happy… I know this is awful, but it sounds like this boy just used you for a moment of pleasure.” He sets a light touch to Magnus’s cheek. “There’s always a risk of this if you hook up with someone, Magnus. I’m not trying to say you’re to blame.”

“I know,” says Magnus, drops his gaze to the floor and huffs his disappointment. “I thought… I thought he liked me. I know that’s stupid…”

“Sometimes I think your heart is too big for your own good,” Ragnor says gently.

Magnus blinks the heat back from his eyes, swallowing hard. “Then my heart is stupid.”

“You fall to easily, Magnus, and it’s not a crime, you just need to be careful.” His dad’s hand drops to his arm, holding him gently. “I know it’s not your fault that he ran out on you, but I need you to understand that a lot of people are like that. A lot of people will want you for sex and nothing more. You need to figure out who is genuine about their feelings and who is just saying whatever they need to in order to get in your pants.”

It’s not a conversation Magnus wants to have with his adoptive father, but Magnus knows that Ragnor won’t let this go until he partakes. It’s almost the sex talk all over again. They had to do that one twice, when Magnus dated a girl instead of a boy and Ragnor realised he was bisexual rather than fully gay.

“Don’t be a slut basically,” Magnus utters, huffing his displeasure at using the word.

Ragnor shakes his head. “Sweetheart, you can have as much or as little sex as you want. Terms like that are just to shame people. What _I’m_ saying, is that when you feel strongly for someone, maybe consider taking it slow, or being completely sure of their motives before you go too far. It’s just to avoid getting your heart broken, okay? I’m not trying to stop you from doing anything. I just want you to be happy.”

Gratitude narrows his eyes and Magnus forces himself to meet his dad’s gaze. “Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “I understand.”

Ragnor gives him a gentle smile, stroking a comforting hand into his hair. “Come on now… I’ll make you some tea and then you can try and get some sleep. You’re still coming to the exhibit tomorrow, right? It’ll take your mind off it. Maybe something will even strike inspiration.”

Magnus huffs, arching a dubious brow. “Nothing can inspire me right now.”

* * *

The exhibit is crowded with students displaying their art, proud family members, random New York citizens who had come to see the works, prospective buyers and dealers.

The main objectives are to find those buyers or art critics to bring attention to students, make them more well-known and get them into the financial world. The exhibit is set up in a large hall of the Brooklyn Academy of Art. Magnus always attends in order to support his fellow students.

At the start of the evening, Magnus stands beside his father as he greets guests, wandering off when he becomes bored to absently look through his friends art. He can recognise a lot of their works. He recognises Catarina’s ghostly white chalk, Clary’s colourful abstracts, Simon’s lively graphic novel studies.

There is nothing of Magnus’s own this time. He didn’t put anything forward to be displayed.

If it isn’t perfect, if he isn’t one hundred percent happy with his work, Magnus refuses to have it as part of the exhibit. Although his father insists that he could display some of his older works, Magnus prefers to keep up to date with his art, to only present new things to the public. They would be no point in displaying work that he no longer relates to.

Magnus has a brief, but meaningful conversation with Simon, saying that he should undoubtedly be working with a writer to bring his masterpiece into realisation. Simon huffs and insists he probably isn’t good enough to publish anything yet, that it would be a miracle if he could find a writer compelling enough for him to work effectively with. Magnus tells him firmly that any writer would be lucky to collaborate with him.

The room bustles with life and Magnus finds his way to a quiet corner, observing the mass of people come to appreciate the art.

Something catches his eye suddenly. Some _one_ catches his eye.

Magnus blinks hard, wandering forward a little so he can get a better look around the pillar that is blocking his view. There is a man stood there, he back to Magnus as he stares at a stone bust that someone in Magnus’s class presented for the exhibit. He is tall and lean and his hair is black and Magnus walks towards him.

When he is close enough, he touches the man’s arm over his jacket, causing him to turn. Their eyes lock and Alec’s lips part, shock flickering in his eyes.

“Hello again,” says Magnus, a sly smile touching his features.

“Magnus,” Alec almost gasps, a little panicked and, despite everything, Magnus feels a swell of sympathy for him.

Still, he can’t resist poking a little fun at the man’s expense. “You remember my name then,” he says, canting his head to the side and pursing his lips. “You left so quickly last time I assumed you ditched your memory at the bottom of a glass. Was it truly that terrible?”

Alec glances around, pulling back to Magnus’s space slightly. “Can we, uh… Can we not do this here? Can we… somewhere private?”

Magnus hums his agreement, gesturing an absent hand to coax Alec to follow him. He leads the way out of the room, not bothering to check if Alec is behind him the entire time. He finds a supply closet in an abandoned hallway, opens the door. As soon as it opens, there’s a heavy hand on his shoulder and Alec is turning him around.

Their lips crush together and Alec ushers him into the closet, pulling the door shut behind them. They hit the only wall that isn’t covered in shelves and Alec’s body presses flush against him. Magnus grabs his neck, pushes him back enough to speak.

“Tell me your surname,” he says, orders him almost.

“It’s Lightwood,” Alec replies obediently, swallowing hard and breathing a little heavily. “Now, please…” His hands clench into Magnus’s lapels. “Please, put your mouth on me again.”

Magnus blinks. “Are you going to run away from me again, Alexander?”

Alec closes his eyes and gives Magnus a small shake, as if growing angry. “Magnus, it’s not… it’s not that simple. I need you to stop asking questions. I just…”

“Alec,” says Magnus. “You are not entitled to this. Just because I gave you a blowjob in a bathroom once, it doesn’t mean you’re entitled to me pleasing you whenever you want.”

“No, I—I know that, I just…” Alec bites his lower lip and Magnus tilts his head in curiosity, maintaining Alec’s gaze when the hazel eyes lift to him. “I’ve never felt like this before. I want that feeling back, but I can’t… I can’t date you or anything. Not yet.”

Magnus narrows his eyes. He says nothing to that. He simply moves his attention to Alec’s jeans, practiced fingers unbuttoning and unzipping the front, forcing his hand inside a little too roughly.

It’s almost like punishment at times. He moves out of sync, the opposite pace of what Alec requests. When he gets tired of Alec’s sounds, Magnus takes his free hand to clasp over Alec’s mouth, forcing his head back against the wall and pinning him there hard. He doesn’t listen to Alec’s muffled moans or pleas. His mind is elsewhere, wandering. Mostly, he just wants Alec to shut up.

When he is spent, Alec scrambles to zip his jeans up and is out the door in a heartbeat. Magnus stays a moment, thinking, before following Alec out of the door. Of course, the man is now nowhere to be seen. Magnus leaves the exhibit too, sends his dad a short and light text, struggling to make it sound as though he is alright even when it’s true. Magnus is fine.

On the short walk home, Magnus ponders this strange, beautiful man and how deeply unhappy he is with his life.

Before he had made his hasty exit, Magnus had caught a peek of the tear trails streaking Alec’s face. Perhaps he regrets being with Magnus like that. It had been more of a social experiment than actual want to please Alec this time. Magnus runs through the information he has gathered and can conclude but one thing. Alec Lightwood is miserable.

Perhaps his parents don’t approve of his lifestyle, perhaps that’s why he refuses to give Magnus a chance. Maybe he’s just stringing Magnus along; he could have some pretty young girl to show off to his parents for all Magnus knows, and he’s just there to give Alec some excitement in his mundane life.

There is an unexpected lightness to his step when he walks into the apartment. After he takes a shower, he pulls on a robe and sits at his desk. Unclasping the buckle on his journal and opening to the page after the inscription, he sets his pencil to the page and begins to sketch from memory.

It’s easy to remember. Alec is one of the most beautiful men Magnus has ever seen. His face has been etched into Magnus’s mind like an engraving ever since their first meeting. Magnus sweeps wide, careful lines across the paper. As he draws, he is pleasantly surprised to see that he is capturing Alec’s likeness near perfectly.

When he is finished, he sets his pencil down, resting his chin in his hand to gaze down at his work. It’s one of his best portrait sketches. He smiles softly, shakes his head in disbelief at his own foolish heart and mind. Of course, it is Alec Lightwood who is conjuring his talent.

Huffing in amusement, Magnus turns to a new page and takes the pencil back into his hand.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus and Alec run into each other once again, and, this time, Magnus is determined to get answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait; I am rapidly losing motivation. Quarantine brain.
> 
> WARNINGS: language, discussion of forced outing (sexuality), negative stance on the idea of conversion therapy

If he is completely honest, part of Magnus feels bad for Alec.

He doesn’t want to feel anything but regret or irritation, but his heart is filled with sympathy for the young man who is inexplicably showing up everywhere Magnus goes. Now that Magnus thinks upon it more, he is absolutely sure he has seen Alec somewhere before their meeting at the club.

Why Alec was at the exhibit a few days past, Magnus may never know. Perhaps he knows a student there. Perhaps his family were looking for some new art. Alec, or at least his family, is fairly wealthy. Maybe they sent Alec looking for a canvas or a sculpture piece to decorate their home.

“Next!”

Magnus wrenches himself from his daydreaming to step forward to the counter, where the barista is calling him over. “Hi,” he greets, scanning the menu. “Can I get a medium latte to take away, please? Uh, what’s your syrup selection like?”

“Oh, they’re on a little card on the display,” the barista said, pointing to the glass guard that shielded the pastries.

Magnus studied it a moment. “Right, uh… can I have two pumps of caramel with that?”

“Sure,” the barista says politely, pressing some keys into the cash register. “That’s four dollars fifteen.”

Magnus pays him, thanks him for the change and wanders over to wait at the end of the counter.

This isn’t his usual haunt. He tends to use the machine at his apartment, but today he is practically dying from boredom and spotted the place on a slow and pointless walk around the city, a little coffee shop tucked away in a random corner of the Heights. It’s quaint and quiet. Magnus likes it.

“—can’t you understand how bad this is?!”

Magnus frowns at the raised voice, turns his head as so many others do. The quiet certainly hadn’t lasted.

The voice comes from a table by the window, two men sitting across from one another, one dark-haired and one blond. If the way he ducks his head and lifts a hand to rake absently into his hair is any indication, it is the dark-haired one who had spoken.

The blond one mutters something that the dark-haired one shakes his head to and Magnus realises with a start that he recognises the young man.

“No way,” he utters softly, turning to take his latte with a murmur of thanks when the barista set it on the counter.

Alec hasn’t seen him.

He leans across the table to the blond boy, speaking to him in urgent whispers. Magnus takes a sip of his latte, frowns softly when the blond boy argues right back, making Alec glance around furtively, ensuring no one is overhearing them. He meets Magnus’s eye and Magnus is certain he goes paler.

It’s an impressive feat. Even before, Alec had been pale enough that Magnus had worries about his health. Now, he is practically corpse-like. There are dark shadows around his eyes, made so much worse by the pallor of his skin.

Alec mutters something to the blond boy, who frowns and questions him as he stands, but Alec doesn’t reply. He marches straight to Magnus, takes his arm.

“Easy,” Magnus warns, shifting his latte to the other hand so it doesn’t spill.

“You can’t be here,” Alec says, pulls him towards the exit.

Magnus goes with him without a fight. He knows it won’t be beneficial to anyone if he fights. Alec is hurting badly. He looks close to tears. Magnus can sense it without the young man saying a word. Alec looks as though like he hasn’t slept in days. There’s a small bruise on his cheekbone.

“You okay?” Magnus asks, although he suspects he knows the answer.

“I’m fine.”

Humming softly, Magnus takes a sip of his latte. “What happened to your cheek?”

“Walked into a door.”

Magnus prises his arm from Alec hold. They are outside now and Alec has been slowing.

“My dad isn’t home,” says Magnus. “If you want to talk somewhere out of public eye—”

“Talk about what?” Alec snaps.

Magnus stares up at him. “Alec, you don’t know where you’re going,” he says and his words prompt Alec to avert his gaze, his jaw clenching. “You’re upset and you’re clearly dragging me away from one of your friends because you don’t want me to tell him about what happened between us. I wouldn’t say anything. I get that you regret what happened, but—”

“I don’t… regret it,” says Alec slowly. He glances around, sighs. “Where’d you live?”

Magnus gives him a look and leads him down the street. They don’t talk much. Magnus tries, but Alec either doesn’t reply or just snaps at him, and he knows he needs to get Alec to a safe space before they can have a real conversation.

The apartment is barely ten minutes away. Magnus dumps his half-finished latte into a nearby litter bin, not having the appetite for it anymore. His stomach churns and he doesn’t understand why that feeling is back. He had it before with Alec in the bathroom, in the supply closet of the academy.

They take the lift and the air seems to crack with tension. Magnus doesn’t know if it’s good or bad.

When they get to the apartment door, his confusion is lifted. Magnus opens the door and is immediately ushered backwards, strong hands on his shoulders. “Alec,” he says, grunting at the force of it when Alec pushes him back against the wall, grabbing his hips and kissing him deep and open-mouthed.

It is wrong. There is something strange about the way Alec’s breaths come. Magnus had caught the barest hint of light on his cheeks before the door had closed and thrown them into the darkness of the apartment. The light upon Alec’s cheeks had been reflecting from tear trails. Even now, Alec is gasping between kisses, shaky and sob-like.

Every time Magnus tries to say his name, he is stopped by Alec’s mouth. Alec pulls him away from the wall by his hips. Magnus steps them backwards into his room, doesn’t try to stop Alec when the man is forcing him to the bed and shoving him down onto the mattress.

“Alec,” Magnus manages to say when Alec is climbing onto the bed, swinging a leg over to straddle his lap. “Tell me what happened. Did something—?”

Alec’s hands fist into his shirt, giving him a single, rough shake, as if to warn him not to ask. Magnus braces his hands to Alec’s chest as he leans down, holding him back.

“Alec, stop. It’s okay. We don’t have to do this. You can talk to me.”

Alec stares at him in the dark for a moment, before grabbing Magnus’s wrists and forcing them away, pinning his hands down into the pillows and kissing him again. Magnus resists this time, refusing to kiss him back, turning his head away. Alec breaks away almost immediately.

“Do you not want to?” he asks and his voice comes forcibly rough.

Magnus clicks his tongue. “Alexander,” he utters softly, prising a hand free and cradling the side of Alec’s face. “You don’t have to do this. You’re in no state... Please, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Alec huffs and his hand tightens briefly on Magnus’s wrist. For a second, Magnus is worried that Alec will push his feelings down yet again and simply force the sex. Alec’s grip loosens almost the moment the thought crosses his mind and he shifts himself off of Magnus, standing beside the bed and bringing his hands up to his face.

“Fuck,” he whispers, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this…”

Magnus exhales slowly, sitting up to cross his legs so he can lean forward slightly and give Alec his full attention. “I indulged you last time and that was a mistake. It was wrong of me to allow it to continue… Will you tell me why it’s different today?”

Alec closes his eyes, ducks his head. “My brother, he, uh… he outed me to my dad.”

Magnus’s eyes widen. “You mean you weren’t…?”

Alec chuckles mirthlessly. “I think he had his suspicions, but Jace just confirmed them.” He rakes a hand into his hair, shaking his head. “God, it was so stupid… He asked Jace if he’d ever seen me with a girl and Jace just fucking told him that he’d seen me… well, with you. In the club.”

“Ah,” Magnus utters, pursing his lips and casting Alec a side-eyed glance. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” says Alec. “I’m angry that he robbed me of my chance to out myself, but… maybe it’s better like this. I’ve been trying to buck up the courage for months and I haven’t managed it. That isn’t the problem. It’s that now my dad wants me to bring ‘that boy from the club’ to our annual retreat.”

Magnus quirks him a confused kind of smile. “Annual retreat? Sounds fancy.”

“It’s infuriatingly fancy,” Alec says. “And if I don’t bring him, dad says he’s going to talk to me about…” He cuts off, huffs and brings his hands up for air quotes. “He wants to ‘get me help’. Which is code for, ‘I’m sending you to conversion therapy’ in my dad’s language.”

Magnus’s brow furrows in a scowl. “That’s fucking barbaric.”

Alec swallows hard, glances to him briefly. Magnus can see the trepidation in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be spilling my guts to a...” Alec trails and frowns softly. “Well... I suppose you’re not really a stranger.”

“Alec, five minutes ago I’m pretty sure you were trying to shove your dick in me. I think we’re at least acquaintances.”

Alec huffs and runs a hand into his hair. “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t... I think I just needed someone to hold onto while my life went to shit. I thought if I avoided dating you or getting emotional, then I could pretend it was just a phase. I thought I could get it out of my system in a way. That was shitty of me… God, that was so shitty of me. I’m so sorry.”

Magnus looks at him strangely. “When you say ‘it’, are you talking about your sexuality?”

Alec closes his eyes, like the words pain him. “Yeah,” he says and it comes forcibly rough. “I thought I could act like it was just one of those experimental college things... I thought it didn’t mean anything, but...” He glances to Magnus. “I’ve never wanted to, uh, as you said, ‘shove my dick’ in a girl.”

Magnus gives a small, mirthless smirk, letting it fall easily from his face. “Alec, your sexuality doesn’t need to be sexual. It can be about attraction, about who makes your heart beat faster when you’re around them. It’s about who you fall in love with.”

Alec swallows and ducks his gaze. “I know I’m gay,” he says shakily. “I didn’t say that to my dad, I just... I told him I think I liked guys.”

“And he told you to prove it by bringing your boyfriend to a family retreat?” Magnus scoffs, shakes his head. “That’s insane, Alec. You have nothing to prove to him, or anyone for that matter. Don’t let him hurt you or make you suffer through an attempt at forced change.”

Alec shakes his head. “I can’t refuse him. His money is putting me through uni, but I don’t… I don’t want conversion therapy. At the same time, I’m not ready for a boyfriend and I can’t get one so quickly. I’m barely out of the closet even to myself and I’m—I’m not ready…”

His words are coming too quickly and trailing too often and, god, he sounds so lost. Magnus can feel the fear coming off him in waves. Alec’s terror is stifling. He is afraid of his father, of losing that financial security and his family, and everything that holds his—admittedly less than perfect—life together.

“Alec,” says Magnus. “You were forced to come out. It’s a terrible thing and you haven’t handled it properly. You need support, you understand?” He leans forward a little. “Have you thought about talking to someone about this? A therapist? A real one.”

Alec blinks hard and shakes his head. “I can’t talk about shit like that… I just… I need time. I just want time.” He exhales heavily. “Magnus, everything’s out in the open now. I just need to deal with it best I can, and, right now, that means convincing my dad that I’m actually gay so he doesn’t make me get conversion therapy.”

“Just out of interest… why is that stopping him sending you there?” Magnus asks, a frown furrowing his brow. “Surely if you convince him you’re gay, it would just fuel his desire to change you.”

“No, because if I’m fully gay, he knows he _can’t_ change me. If it’s just tendencies, then he wants to…” Alec sighs, rubs a hand over his forehead. “He wants to ‘fix’ me. If he knows there’s even a chance of making me straight, then he’ll do it.”

Magnus stares at him. For the longest while, he just stares, figuring out this man sat on the edge of his bed. Alec is definitely not the player Magnus took him for. Alec is just scared. Magnus can certainly relate to that.

“Then convince him,” Magnus says.

Alec sighs and shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. I can’t get a boyfriend in a month, let alone convince them to come to the fucking alps with me for a week. On top of all that, they’d have to suffer through seven whole days with my family asking them personal, probably incredibly offensive, questions.” He breathes out slowly and presses his hands to his forehead. “I’m so fucked.”

He is about five seconds away from crying. Magnus can sense emotions in people like dogs can sniff out cancer, and Alec is overwhelming him.

“What if you just took me?”

His query is met with wide eyes and Alec snapping his head up to stare at him, bewildered. The silence is practically deafening.

“What…?” Alec utters finally, blinking hard. “But we’re not—”

“We’re not boyfriends, I know,” says Magnus, shaking his head. “I’m not asking to date you. I just want to help. Your brother has already seen me, so it would make sense for me to be your… fake-boyfriend…? Plus, it’s an excuse to get out of the country for my sabbatical. My dad certainly wouldn’t complain. He’s been encouraging me to travel for months now.”

Alec swallows so hard that Magnus can see the jolt of his throat. “You’d really do that? It—It wouldn’t be like a holiday. The whole week is gonna suck, and my dad is definitely going to be at least borderline racist and probably overtly homophobic. My grandparents are just racist full stop, and my brother can get really annoying, and my sister’s definitely going to see right through us—”

“Alec,” Magnus interrupts with a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. There’s almost an entire month before you have to go. You have time to teach me everything to watch out for, all the topics to avoid.”

Alec blinks back heat from his eyes. “What… What are we then? I—I know that we have to convince everyone that we’re boyfriends, but… really, what are we?”

Magnus thinks a moment. “Friends with benefits?” he says and that manages to get a smile out of Alec.

“Okay,” He says, breathes unsteadily, tears in his eyes. “Fuck, I’ve been so shitty to you, why would you even want to help me?”

“Because now I see why you were so shitty,” Magnus chuckles, turns his smile soft with sympathy. “You’re scared and that’s okay. People lash out when they’re scared. I’m not going to indulge you sexually anymore, because I’m going to help you properly. Now,” he holds a hand out expectantly, “give me your phone.”

Alec frowns, but does so without question. Magnus asks for his passcode, which, again, Alec gives him immediately. Magnus clicks into his contacts, typing out his number in a new contact. Usually he would put in a silly nickname, something his friends would know him by, but this time is different. He leaves it at _Magnus_.

He returns Alec’s phone to him, giving him a meaningful look. “Call me if you need to talk, okay? We’ll need to meet up in person occasionally to learn about one another. Your family need to be convinced that we’re dating after all.”

Alec nods slowly. “Yeah… Yeah, okay, uh… Are you on your sabbatical now?”

“Well, no, I’m going back to classes until the break now,” says Magnus, glancing him up and down. “In return for helping you with this… I wonder if you might give me your permission to include a few sketches of you in the portfolio for my final piece.”

At first Alec seems a little taken aback, but his expression calms quickly and he nods. “Y—Yeah, of course. I owe you one, right?”

“Well, no, I’m not doing this to gain a favour,” says Magnus, guilty for having made him think that. “I just… You’re a good muse.”

Alec swallows, manages a small smile. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Magnus is glad to see him smile. It seems as though it is something he does so rarely. Some hopeful part of his mind believes that he might help with that. Magnus decides then and there to make it his mission to get Alec smiling more often. It is the least he can do to ease Alec's anxiety-inducing life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus and Alec meet up at Magnus's apartment on evening in order to learn more about one another, exchanging information that will be paramount in convincing everyone else that they are dating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG thank you to everyone who left kudos and especially to my commenters on the last chapter: @PhoenixStar73, @jinxie86, @youmeatsix, @pinkysloth. I really appreciate the support from everyone, so thank you all.

It becomes a regular occurrence for Alec to stop by the apartment while Ragnor is out.

Magnus’s dad often works late, staying at the academy to grade papers and offer advice on art pieces. Magnus cooks dinner for him on these nights, has it ready for when he gets back. Even if his dad texts that he’ll be in late, Magnus leaves a plate in the microwave for him, a post-it note reminding him to let it sit for a while to stop himself getting burned.

Now, Magnus cooks while answering Alec’s incessant questions about his life. The younger man texts him when he has a spare night that corresponds with Ragnor working late, and the two meet up at Magnus’s place.

Tonight is Friday. Ragnor always works late on Fridays, the weeks work piling up, and Magnus is stood at the counter beside the hob, slicing chillies for a vegetable curry. Alec is sat at the kitchen island behind him, a yellow legal pad in front of an open laptop laid on the stone top in front of him, a well-chewed brio in hand. It is a few nights into their ‘info-dump sessions’ as Alec likes to call them.

The first night was short, exchanging ages, birthdays, star signs. Alec had left with a few scribbles in his notepad, not used to being around Magnus yet. The second night had been a little longer, and it was mainly Alec talking. Magnus learned about his family, about their likes and their aversions. They sounded far too conservative for Magnus’s taste. It was Magnus’s turn to call it a night then, when Alec tried to ask about his family.

Tonight is different. Tonight, everything seems more comfortable. Alec is asking him about his enrolment at the Brooklyn Academy of Arts. Magnus answers easily. He knows he will have to talk about his family tonight. Somehow it doesn’t seem as daunting now. Is has been almost three weeks since they first met. That seems like enough time.

“So, you’re majoring in sculpture and minoring in drawing,” says Alec, frowns in concentration at the paper.

“We don’t really have the majoring and minoring thing at the academy,” says Magnus over his shoulder. “We pick and choose our topics as we go, letting our art style develop with different techniques. I’ve loved sculpture since I was younger. Dad taught me how to carve little wooden figures. There was a time in my life when my thumbs were always scarred.” He casts a fond look at one of his thumbs, glances back to Alec. “There’s still some scarring that hasn’t faded.”

Alec looks at him curiously. “Kinda dangerous to give a kid a knife, isn’t it?”

“I was fifteen. It isn’t as though I was an infant.”

Alec hums his realisation, jots something down in his pad. Magnus turns himself back to the food and smiles, surprised to find himself feeling… _fondness_ for Alec. Something about a boy chewing on his pen, messy hair half in his face, buried in a mind-map of notes, hits Magnus right in the centre of his foolish, idiotic heart. Alec somehow fits perfectly into every category of tall, dark and handsome.

“What’re you up to on that laptop?” Magnus asks, trying to draw his attention away from Alec’s looks.

“Research,” says Alec, flicking a yellow page over and scribbling something down on his pad. “I don’t know anything about relationships. Luckily for me, whoever wrote this list apparently knows what they’re talking about.”

Magnus frowns softly, sets his knife down and wipes his hands off on a tea towel. When he wanders to the kitchen island, Alec turns his laptop so Magnus can see. It’s open on some website called THETAB.com, an article entitled: _Here is every single relationship milestone you should be reaching_.

“So, according to this, you shouldn’t be meeting my parents until six months into the relationship,” says Alec, scrolling down to the six-month paragraph. “But then, at ten months, it’s saying to go on holiday together. So, we should probably act like we’ve been dating for about half a year at least.”

Magnus blinks hard. “Okay…” he says slowly. “But, you see here, we’ve just done step one and three, and nothing else. We kissed and did oral sex—and then did hand stuff, but who’s counting—and that’s kinda screwing with your timeline, Alec.”

“So, let’s just… start from the start,” says Alec, frowning anxiously. “We… We met in a club—we can keep that the same. You gave me your number. We went on a date and kissed afterwards—”

“Alec, slow down,” says Magnus. “People are going to ask how we met more than anything else. Trust me, I know. We need to have it down to every detail, learn it like a script, because that what it’ll feel like by the hundredth time we’re asked.”

Alec blinks slowly. “You know how we met… We can be honest about that. Except… well, maybe we can cut out the bathroom thing. Swap it out for exchanging numbers. I could’ve walked you home, kissed you goodbye on the doorstep. I could’ve… been better than I was. I could’ve done it right.”

Magnus stares at him a moment. “Alec…”

“I know,” says Alec and doesn’t elaborate. He swallows hard, shakes his head. “Let’s just… pretend it ended better than it did.”

“Picture-perfect,” Magnus murmurs, a soft furrow to his brow.

Alec nods. “Exactly.”

Magnus says nothing, turns to wander back to the counter and taking the knife in hand again. He slices vegetables, tosses it all in a frying pan and watches the oil sizzle around the pieces of onion and chilli and peppers and several varieties of other goodness. He picks out spices and powders haphazardly, so used to cooking by now that he doesn’t bother measuring anything. He pours in stock dissolved in water, stirring continuously.

His mouth is watering.

“I made extra,” he says over his shoulder, not bothering to turn fully. “Do you want a bowl or are you eating back at home?”

Alec huffs softly. “Uh, it’s either this or microwave pizza, so… well, if you’re offering—”

“Of course,” Magnus says. “You live in the university dorms. I forget.”

“Yeah,” says Alec, pauses a moment. “Thank you.”

Magnus brushes it off. “You’re my guest.”

“Yeah, but… this isn’t conventional, y’know? It’s not like you owe me anything. Opposite, actually.”

“Nonsense,” Magnus says, glancing back to him. “Come earn your keep. Spoon out three bowls of rice for me, will you? Crockery’s in the corner cupboard.”

Alec does as he is told, taking out three bowls. He doesn’t comment on how two of them are chipped, or how they are clearly from a multi-set. He doesn’t even glance to Magnus about it. Magnus doesn’t know why he thought it would be an issue. Perhaps because Alec is rich and used to finer things.

Magnus is coming to understand how wrong he has been about Alec Lightwood.

“Where’d you keep your spoons?” Alec asks.

Magnus taps the drawers Alec is stood in front of. “Top one.” He taps the wooden spoon to the edge of the frying pan to remove some of the excess curry sauce. “Taste this for me first.”

Alec gives him a hesitant look before obediently opening his mouth to try a little off the spoon. He hums his intrigue, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “It’s good. Different flavours than I’m used to, but it’s nice… What is it?”

“It’s an old recipe,” says Magnus, trying it himself. “Indonesian. It’s sort of… poor people food, if that’s still PC? Or it used to be when they had to impress Dutch colonisers.”

“Indonesia?” Alec asks, picking out a spoon and three forks. “Is that your heritage?”

Magnus nods. “It’s where I was born. One of the smaller islands.” He shifts his shoulders as he admits, “this is my mother’s recipe.”

Alec looks at him then and Magnus knows he has a thousand questions in his mind. Magnus has been guarded about his family until now. “Is she back in Indonesia?”

“She died when I was nine.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Magnus shrugs, acting as if it doesn’t bother him anymore. It shouldn’t. It was over a decade ago. “She’s in a better place,” he says, as cliché as it is, because he knows it is true. His mother’s life had been filled with hardship; the deterioration of her mental wellbeing had been uncontrollable. Magnus’s only comfort was that she wasn’t in pain anymore.

“Still… I’m sorry,” continues Alec, setting a hand to the small of his back. “It must’ve been difficult.”

Magnus ignores how warm Alec’s hand is through his shirt. Ignores the fact that, if there is nothing between them, then Alec wouldn’t have bothered comforting him at all. They are at least acquaintances. Maybe they are even friends.

He turns his head to acknowledge Alec’s words, and the law student goes back to spooning out rice from the rice cooker.

“I suppose that’s another thing your family will want to know,” Magnus says, glancing to Alec, who gives him an apologetic kind of look.

“Yeah, probably… I can call ahead, tell them not to ask.”

Magnus shakes his head. “No, Alexander, it’s fine. I’ve had to tell a lot of people. It doesn’t bother me so much anymore.” Alec frowns at that and Magnus wonders if he’s done something wrong. “Really, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s just… Alexander?”

Magnus gives him a crooked smile. “Well, that’s your name, isn’t it?”

“How did you even know that?”

“Common sense.”

Alec huffs and nods slowly, but he is smiling so Magnus takes it as a good sign. The use of his full name had been out on a bit of a whim, testing the waters a little to see how far Alec would let him go. Introducing himself as Alec, Magnus assumes he doesn’t let a lot of people call him Alexander, if anyone.

“I won’t use it again if you don’t like it,” says Magnus amiably. “I understand a distaste for one’s own name. I thought about having mine changed. I’d prefer—” he added when Alec glanced to him, a question on his lips “—not to talk about why in too much depth. It just dredges up the past.”

Alec nods. “I understand.” He is quiet for a long moment, washing up the spoon once he’s done with it, leaving it in the drying rack for lack of a visible towel. “Alexander is… fine, by the way. Sounds good when you say it.”

Magnus smiles softly. “I’ll be sure to keep it for special occasions.”

He dishes the curry out evenly into the three bowls. He and Alec take one each, leaving the other for Ragnor, and reconvene at the kitchen island. Alec’s table manners are impeccable, despite clearly being unused to the dish. Magnus supposes perfection is highly regarded in the Lightwood family.

“This is good,” Alec compliments, gesturing his fork to his bowl. “I don’t get meals with this much flavour very often, or meals cooked from scratch at all. It’s a nice change of pace.”

Magnus chews thoughtfully, swallows as says, “you don’t cook in your university halls?”

Alec shakes his head. “I’m an awful cook. Can barely do toast without burning it.”

Magnus chuckles. “Well, you’re always welcome to come back if you ever get bored of burned toast.”

Alec lifts his head, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Really?”

“Well, yeah, of course,” says Magnus, canting his head slightly. “I take the honour of fake-boyfriend very seriously, you know.” Alec lifts his gaze to the ceiling, a smile playing on his lips. “My fake-boyfriend is always welcome to dinner. You might even get along with my dad. He’s a tough crowd, but you could probably swing it.”

“I hate you,” Alec grumbles, focusing on his food, although he can’t quite keep the smile from his expression.

“No, you love me,” teases Magnus, pushing a piece of pepper around before spearing it on his fork. “Besides, I’m not sure you’re appreciate all our vegetarian dinners. You look like you’d miss steak.”

Alec glances to him, curious now. “You’re a vegetarian?”

Magnus hums his confirmation. “It’s kind of a religious thing,” he admits. “I was brought up an animist.” Alec frowns his confusion and Magnus shakes his head. “Don’t worry, it’s not very well known. It’s more about spirituality than religion. I don’t have gods, but I believe in… well, souls. Animals, plants, places, natural things. They all have a spirit. At least, that’s my belief.”

“That’s pretty amazing,” says Alec, canting his head. “If it’s okay me prying… what’d you mean by natural things? Like… water?”

“Yes,” Magnus says with a nod. “Rivers, mountains, seas. Even disasters like earthquakes and hurricanes. I can see a presence in all of them.” He shrugs softly, smiling. “I suppose it sounds strange to you. There’s no logic in it.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t real,” says Alec, gesturing to himself. “I’m a Christian, remember? My whole family are. We believe in God and Angels. There’s no logic in that. It’s not so different.”

Magnus smiles softly at him. “I suppose it’s not.”

Alec ducks his gaze, clearing his throat softly. He has a habit of doing that when a moment becomes too intimate, when they stare into one another’s eyes a little too long, when they are honest and vulnerable. “Anyway,” Alec says briskly, “if this is what vegetarian food is then count me in. Better than frozen sausages any day.”

Magnus gives him an appreciative look, his eyes narrowed in gratitude. He is discovering more and more about this young man every second they spend together. After their initial meeting, Magnus thought him selfish, a typical youth who would say anything for sex and not stick around for the consequences.

He sees how wrong he was now. Magnus understands why he ran now, understands why he kept running, understands why he kept coming back. Alec wanted him, but he was afraid of exposing himself to his family. He was afraid of exposing _Magnus_ to his family because he knew their vacation was coming up and he knew he would be expected to bring a partner if he had one.

In his own, less-than-perfect way, Alec had been trying to protect him. Magnus looks across the counter of the island now and sees a young man who is so used to protecting and pleasing everyone around him that he never stopped to think of his own happiness.

It is a selfless life he lives. Magnus feels as though he knows him now, knows his soul.

Beyond anything else, Alec Lightwood is kind.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus and Alec meet up for coffee at Magnus's regular haunt. They run into a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been leaving kudos and to my recent commenters: @PhoenixStar73, @slryan05, @June hodge, @bidness, @jinxie86, @ilovemanicures, @Luiza! You’re all so lovely; thank you all for your kind words. I really do appreciate it.

The glitter-cased phone vibrates upon the counter and Ragnor wanders to turn it over.

Magnus glances back, unable to attend it due to his hands being caked in bread dough. It is Sunday morning, a traditional baking morning for their small family. Ragnor had taught Magnus many things, but encouraging his passion for art and his interest in cooking were the most important to him. It brought them closer together.

Their Sunday morning baking sessions are often the highlight of his week. This morning is sun-dried tomato bread, but it changes frequently.

“’Alec’ is calling you,” says Ragnor, putting emphasis on the unfamiliar name. “You want to answer?”

“Uh, yeah, I’d better,” Magnus says, leaning over when Ragnor sets it down on the counter beside him. “Hey, Alec. You’re on speaker and, fair warning, my dad is in the room, so keep it PC.”

“ _Right_ ,” Alec’s voice comes clear through the speaker. “ _Sorry, am I interrupting?_ ”

Magnus shakes his head. “No, it’s no trouble. I’m just wrist deep in bread dough at the moment, so I can’t hold the phone. What’s up?”

“ _I was just calling to see if you wanted to grab a coffee with me today,_ ” says Alec. “ _Y’know, so we can… catch up?_ ”

Ragnor casts Magnus a sly kind of look, and Magnus narrows his eyes at him. “Sounds good,” he says, kneading the dough under the heels of his palms. “How’s one o’clock for you? I know you favour that café by the institute, but I think you need a change of scene. How about I meet you outside the Academy, okay?”

“ _Yeah,_ ” agrees Alec quickly. “ _One o’clock. I’ll see you then._ ”

“Bye,” Magnus bids his farewell, letting Alec hang up the phone. His father is looking at him curiously. “What?”

Ragnor crosses his arms, lifting a querying brow. “So… Alec?”

Shrugging softly, Magnus huffs. “He’s just a friend.”

Ragnor cants his head a little. “How do you know him?”

“He comes to the exhibits sometimes,” says Magnus, not entirely a lie. He doesn’t know what he can say to Ragnor and what Alec would prefer to keep secret. Magnus hates keeping secrets from his dad.

Of course, Ragnor sees right through him. “I know there’s more to it than that, but I know you, and I know you’d tell me if you wanted to. When you’re ready, okay?”

Magnus nods, guilt still clawing at his stomach despite his dad’s assurance. He doesn’t lie to his dad. It’s just not what happens in their family; Magnus tells him everything without exception. Lying feels weird. It feels wrong.

“Come on,” Ragnor says, pressing a hand to the small of his back. “Shall we get this bread onto a tray and you can get ready for your date?”

“I don’t think it’s a date.”

Ragnor hums. “Of course,” he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “Wash your hands off. Go and get ready.” He smiles softly. “You want to be looking your best.”

Magnus huffs, wanders over to his bedroom and adjoining bathroom, calling back over his shoulder. “It’s not a date!”

* * *

Alec is leaning against the side of the staircase to the entrance of the academy when Magnus gets there at two minutes to one.

He is texting frantically, dressed in a leather jacket and white vest shirt, black jeans and matching combat boots. Dark locks of hair fall over one side of his forehead. He pushes it back with an absent hand as he lifts his head, a hesitant smile turning his lips when he sees Magnus approaching.

Magnus gives him a small wave, follows the movement with a curious gaze as Alec pockets his phone. “Anything important?”

“Fighting with my brother,” says Alec concisely, the smile falling from his lips. “It’s fine. He’s just…” He sighs, shakes his head. “God, he’s so stubborn. He won’t even apologise for telling my dad. We’re Lightwoods, stubborn by nature. He might be adopted, but he picked up all of our stupid traits.”

Magnus hums his acknowledgement. “Alec, if you ever need any help—”

“No, I—I’m fine. Let’s just get some coffee, okay?”

“Okay,” Magnus says slowly. “Come on.”

He leads the young man down the streets of Brooklyn, struggling to make conversation. Alec has his hands in his pockets, his eyes downcast to the pavement. Clearly this fight with his brother is getting to him. Magnus knows enough from their ‘info-dump sessions’ to know that Alec values his brother and sister. He has never had siblings, but he does understand the importance of family.

Hunter’s Moon is his regular café. Magnus goes there so often he has a loyalty card. The barista’s stamp every circle with a blue crescent moon, filling up his card until he gets his tenth free and they give him a new card. Leading Alec through the doors, Magnus casts Maia a smile and she waves at him from behind the counter.

The café is reasonably full, but there are tables and space, and Magnus loves how it is never completely packed. Maia gives him a sly look and Magnus squints at her, noting how much like Ragnor she is. Magnus orders his latte, turns to Alec and learns that the young man drinks black coffee.

“Figures,” he says as Maia adds up the total, casting Alec a soft smile. “Tall, dark and handsome.”

Alec quirks him a smile, only a little forced. “Oh, so you order latte’s because you’re so sweet?”

Magnus glances to him, half impressed by his casual flirt. Logically, he knows that Alec is simply practicing for the vacation. It doesn’t stop him smiling. “We’ll work on it,” he says, giving Alec’s wrist a light slap when he goes for his wallet. “Hey, don’t even think about it. I dragged you out here. I’m paying.”

For a moment, Alec looks as though he might argue, but seems to decide against it. He looks guilty suddenly. Magnus realises that he wanted to pay because he had the money to waste. They come from different economic backgrounds. It doesn’t bother Magnus, but he knows Alec is finding it hard to realise that he doesn’t have to pay for everything. It makes Magnus wonder what kind of relationships he has been in before.

“So,” he says briskly as they make their way to a table with their drinks in hand, “have you been working on our cover story?”

Alec clicks his tongue. “Maybe,” he utters, a look on his face that suggests that he definitely has been working on a cover story. “I’m kind of a workaholic. It’s stupid.”

“It’s fine,” says Magnus, sliding into one of the chairs at a table by the window, watching Alec sit opposite him. “What have you got?”

“Just things that will hopefully avoid having my dad on your case all weekend.”

Magnus sips his latte. “Hit me.”

“Okay, well, if you’re not at university, then my dad if going to treat you like shit, so I think you might be better off if we act like you’re majoring in corporate or criminal law. I know you don’t want to talk about your family, so you can just pretend everything’s okay in that area if you want, and you can pick a city that you were born in. If you’re not American, my father…” Alec trails. He sighs, shakes his head. “No, look, I—I think this is a mistake.”

Magnus swallows another mouthful of his latte. “I see,” he utters, setting his mug down upon the table. “Alec, I don’t want you to get hurt. If you turn up at this vacation without me—”

“Oh, no, not about that,” says Alec, shaking his head reassuringly. “No, I still need you to come, I just… This whole idea of pretending you’re something you’re not, it’s stupid… Besides, if I give you a cover story that will make my dad like you, then he’s going to think that you’re straight.”

Magnus huffs and scuffs a shoe against the floor. “Yeah, you’ve got a point… I mean, me learning corporate law, and having loving, accepting parents, and being born and bred in America. That’s too normal.”

Alec gives him a sympathetic look. “You don’t have to talk about your parents if you don’t want to.”

“I can imagine it’ll be the first thing your father will ask me,” says Magnus, chuckling weakly. “That is, if he doesn’t ask about my ethnicity.”

Alec clenches his jaw, ducking his gaze slightly. “Magnus, I don’t want you to lie about yourself, but there is one thing I need you to lie about… I do need you to pretend to be, like… fully gay. Not bi like I know you are. If my dad knows you’re bi, he’ll take it as a sign that we can both be straight.”

Magnus regards him a long moment. “Of course,” he says finally, taking a sip of his latte.

“I’m sorry. I know how shitty it is to have to pretend to be something you’re not.”

“Alexander,” says Magnus, reaching across the table and grabbing his hand. “If this is what it takes to stop your father forcing conversion therapy on you, I am more than prepared for it. I won’t let him abuse you like that.”

Alec swallows hard, shifting his hand around a little to stroke the pad of his thumb over the soft skin on the back of Magnus’s hand.

“Magnus?”

Alec’s hand twitches against Magnus’s own, as if planning on pulling away. He manages to keep his cool, nonchalantly drawing his hand back from Magnus’s. This is how it would have to be on the trip. People would interrupt them and Alec would want to distance himself from any signs of his sexuality, but he would have to be calm. Magnus hopes he can manage it.

Magnus glances up, a smile brightening his face as he sees the woman stood beside them. She is Alec’s age, perhaps a little younger, with bright copper hair flowing down over her shoulders. She smiles as Magnus stands to embrace her, hugging him tightly in return.

“It feels like so long since I’ve seen you,” says Magnus, grinning as he pulls out from the hug, holding her by the shoulders. “It must’ve only been a week though.” He turns back to Alec, his expression creasing in slight concern. “Oh, Alec, this is—”

“Clary, right?” finishes Alec, stands to hold his hand out. “I’m Jace’s brother. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, of course,” Clary says, reaching her hands to clutch Alec’s own, not shaking his hand, just holding it. “Likewise. Jace… he thinks the world of you. I—I heard about what happened.”

Alec gives a weak smile, clearly forced. “It’s fine,” he says quickly. He glances to Magnus, who casts him a gentle look. “You’ve clearly already met my boyfriend, so that’s one less introduction I have to do on the trip.”

 _My boyfriend_. They are words that Magnus hasn’t heard for a while. He ignores how right it sounds coming from Alec’s lips.

“Oh, you two are…” Clary begins and smiles. “Oh, Jace didn’t tell me.”

“Jace didn’t know,” says Alec.

The silence stretches out too long. Magnus gestures to their booth. “Do you want to sit with us?”

Clary seems grateful for the out. “Thanks for the offer, but I should get going. I promised Simon I’d go round to work on the novel.”

“Oh, how is it going? Have you figured out an ending yet?”

“Not quite,” says Clary, smiling softly and giving a casual shrug. “We’ll get it sorted. Everything works out in the end, right?” She looks between them. “You guys are cute together. I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Magnus?”

Magnus nods, bids her farewell and turns back to Alec. The young man is sitting down again, glaring at his coffee as he pushes the spoon around the rim. Magnus takes his seat opposite him, reaching over for his hand.

“Alec…”

“I’m fine,” says Alec, glancing up to him, but he draws his hand away. “Just be yourself on the vacation, okay?”

“A gayer version of myself,” Magnus jokes, managing to coax a soft smile from Alec. “It’s going to be alright, Alexander.” He hesitates a moment. “Look, I know you’re lying to your family about this, but I… I have to tell my dad the truth. All of it.”

Alec swallows hard and nods. “I understand.”

Magnus gives him an anxious look. “Alec, my dad isn’t perfect. He can get pretty nosy when I do something kinda crazy like—well, like go on vacation with someone I barely know. He’ll probably want to check, make sure you’re not trying to murder me, y’know?”

“Sure,” Alec mutters. “Tell him. Let me know what he says. I—I’ll meet with him if he wants, make sure he knows that I’m not trying to screw with you.”

Quirking a soft smile, Magnus tilts his head slightly to one side. “I thought it was me being exposed to judgemental parents…”

Alec shrugs. “Guess I have to return the favour.”

Electing to stay quiet seems to be the right call. They share a comfortable silence as they drink their coffee. Magnus smiles absently, running an absent finger along the rim of his mug.

“So, you really don’t think I could pull off corporate lawyer?”

Alec actually laughs. He _laughs_ and Magnus’s smile just widens as Alec stumbles over his amusement in trying not to hurt Magnus’s feelings. Magnus waves him off, simply because he doesn’t want Alec to stop smiling. He doesn’t think about why that is so important to him.

Alec is beautiful. Magnus allows himself to think that. It doesn’t mean anything, because Alec doesn’t want him. It’s harmless, a fleeting thought.

Nothing will come of it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus spend the afternoon in each other's company and both learn a little more about the other. That night, Magnus tells Ragnor the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to @PhoenixStar73, @jinxie86, @ilovemanicures, @codenamepenguin, @bidness, and @royalelephant for your lovely comments. I always love hearing what you all think of the story; it's the highlight of my day!

Magnus doesn’t get back to the apartment in the daylight.

He and Alec stay at the café for a while longer, finishing their drinks and ordering seconds alongside pastries. Alec pays for their food. He insists and he says it with such determination that Magnus doesn’t have the heart to refuse him. It seems important, so Magnus lets him pay.

They wander the streets absently. Magnus talks to people selling trinkets and art along the sides of the street. Alec is more wary around the people, but he seems to relax a little once he sees that Magnus is getting along with them.

Magnus knows several of them by name, people out of rehab, on probation, people just trying to make some extra money for themselves and their families. Magnus understands what it’s like to be shunned trying to make ends meet.

“You know a lot of people in this city, don’t you?” says Alec as they wander away.

“Well, you can never have too many friends,” Magnus replies cheerfully, casting him a light smile. “You must be quite popular at your university…” He trails, frowns as Alec glances away. “Come to think of it… I haven’t heard a lot about your social life. What are your friends like? Your past relationships?”

Alec sighs slow and steady, taking Magnus’s arm and forcing him to halt in his walking. “Look, I… I know I acted like I knew what I was doing when we first met, but, you probably realised, that I have exactly zero experience with sex or actually anything to do with sex.”

Magnus cants his head. “So, you _are_ a virgin.”

“Magnus, I’m such a virgin that… You are the first person to ever do… anything with me.”

Blinking his confusion, Magnus looks up at him. “Anything meaning…?”

“I never kissed anyone before you,” says Alec and Magnus’s eyes widen in badly concealed surprise. “I’ve never been in a relationship and I don’t have any friends.” He sighs. “Magnus, I’m a loner, okay? I like books. I like my course at university. I like learning about law, but… everyone else is looking for money and status… I want to help people. I don’t want to be like my parents.”

Magnus regards him a long moment. More and more, Alec is surprising him. Part of Magnus wonders if the young man is simply lying to get on his good side. The rational part of his mind chides him. Alec doesn’t appear to be capable of being disingenuous.

“What do you want?” Magnus asks.

Alec purses his lips. “Don’t laugh, okay?” Magnus draws an invisible X over his heart with his index finger and Alec breaks a soft smile. “Okay, uh… I’ve been looking into jobs at the NRDC.”

A softly surprised smile crosses Magnus’s lips. “You’re going to work at the National Resources Defense Council?”

“And of course you know what NRDC stands for,” says Alec, lifts a hand to absently touch Magnus’s upper arm. “Yeah, I really think that’s what I want. I want to help the environment… I want to save the planet.”

Magnus chuckles. “Tall order. I’m sure you’re up for it.” He pats the back of Alec’s hand, still over his arm. “And, hey, there’ll be none of that ‘loner’ talk. I mean… we’re friends, right?”

Alec looks at him strangely, strange because Magnus can’t pinpoint his expression.

“Do you want to come back to my flat?” Alec asks abruptly, shakes his head when Magnus raises a brow at him. “Oh, no, it’s not… not _that_. I just… You confirming that we’re friends kinda opens up some new avenues and I… I was wondering if you wanted to hang out this afternoon. I mean… it’s better than the alternative… for me anyway.”

Magnus quirks a small smile. “What did you have in mind?”

Alec shrugs a little. “Well… uh, I was thinking a film, but I only really have horror. I used to rent the same five films for Halloween every year and this year I bought them because I have— _had_ —no friends, so I don’t do Halloween parties.”

Magnus eyes his suspiciously. “List off these films and we’ll see.”

“Uh, okay, I’ve got _Halloween_ , obviously—”

“Which year?”

“Nineteen seventy-eight,” Alec replies immediately. “Come on, what’d you take me for?”

Magnus gives him a crooked smile. “Alright, that’s all I needed to know. You clearly have good enough taste. Let me text my dad to let him know I’ll be late home.”

Alec frowns softly. “Does he really want to know about everything you do?”

Magnus quirks a brow at him. “You don’t call your dad a lot, do you.” It’s not a question. They both know the answer. Alec says nothing, glances away, and Magnus’s thumbs type out a text.

**Going to Alec’s uni flat. Might be late x**

He pockets his phone, knowing his dad will talk ages to reply, nods to Alec that he’s ready. They take the subway over to Manhattan and are outside Alec’s halls when Magnus’s phone pings and he takes it out to look at the reply his dad has typed up.

**Make good choices! x**

Magnus doesn’t respond, simply smiles and slips his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. Alec leads him up to his halls building. There are university halls of residence dotted all over the city. Alec’s is in Greenwich Village. Magnus can’t help but notice the irony of Alec Lightwood living in the most LGBT friendly neighbourhood in Manhattan.

They take the elevator to the top floor and Alec buzzes them in with his electronic key card. It’s the same lock on his door halfway down a narrow hallway. Alec let’s Magnus into his room first.

It’s almost empty.

“Uh, well, this is my room,” says Alec, letting the door close behind him, gesturing absently to his very small amount of haphazard things. “I’ve been in your apartment tons of times. It’s only fair that you see where I live… even if it’s not a lot to look at.”

Magnus gives the room a sad look. The books are arranged neatly upon the shelf above Alec’s bed, a row of law books set up in alphabetical order. There is a limp peace lily on the desk in front of the window, a dogeared book beside it. Magnus frowns softly, moving to pick it up. This one isn’t a law book.

He glances back to Alec, smiles softly as he holds up the book. “Jane Eyre,” he reads out the title.

Alec swallows hard. “Uh, yeah, that’s… that’s not even mine, it—” He sighs deeply and shrugs. “I don’t know why I’d lie about that to you. Don’t let on to my parents or anyone, but it’s my favourite book. I’ve read it thousands of time.”

Magnus smiles, smooths a hand over the detailed cover, brown binding with patterns of flowers. He can feel Alec’s love imprinted into this book, a flare of light in the heart of the weathered pages. “It’s a beautiful copy… It’s so well-loved.”

Alec ducks his gaze and Magnus catches him clearing his throat softly before he wanders over, crouching to retrieve his laptop from beneath his bed. “Films are in the desk drawer,” he says, points to the top one. “Just pick out whatever you want.”

Magnus eyes his laptop warily. “You don’t have a TV?”

“Well, there’s one in the communal lounge, but I only really go in there to cook. I don’t know if anyone else is in there.”

“No harm in checking.”

As it turns out, there really is no harm in checking. The communal area is deserted. Magnus glances to Alec, shrugs, and the young man casts him a light smile, wandering over to the TV.

“Did you pick out a film?”

Magnus hums. “Well, I realised that watching _Halloween_ at the start of December is practically illegal, so I perused the rest of your films.” He held up two DVD cases. “ _Friday the Thirteenth_ or _The Thing_?”

Alec tilts his head. “Well, it’s just gone two, so… have you got time for both?”

Magnus smiles softly. “Yeah, I think that can be arranged.”

During the films, Magnus learns two things. 1) Alec Lightwood is a talker, and 2) Alec Lightwood is honest. He learns both through the entirety of Friday the 13th, when Alec slams on the group of teenagers for being ‘ _the most unobservant bastards on the planet_ ’ and that ‘ _they probably deserve this_ ’.

They are less than half an hour into _The Thing_ when the snowy setting apparently reminds Alec of their upcoming vacation. He looks at Magnus with a soft frown. “Hey, uh… I don’t suppose there’s any chance of you being able to ski…?”

Magnus hums. “No, I’ve never been skiing in my life. Snowboarding, however. _That_ I can do. I actually own a snowboard.” Alec swallows hard, bites his lower lip and Magnus immediately sees that there’s some kind of issue. “Oh, that’s not a good face… Is that going to be a problem?”

Alec shakes his head. “No, no, it’s fine.”

“Y’know,” Magnus says, turns to him properly, “when people say ‘it’s fine’ like that, it’s usually code for ‘everything is wrong’. I know your whole family skis, that was covered pretty thoroughly in one of our info-dump sessions… Is it going to be weird if I bring my board?”

“No, seriously, it really is fine. It’s good that we’ll be able to get down the runs together. No offence, but the week would be kinda dull if we were on training slopes all week.”

Magnus casts him a light smile. “Well, luckily for you, my dad has a half brother in Canada. It’s where we go on vacation to avoid finding and paying for accommodation, and it’s always snowing up there, so I’ve had plenty of practice. Never skied. I started off snowboarding, so I just stuck with it.”

Alec nods. “Good. It’s good that you’re experienced. Means we can avoid Clary and Jace.”

“Are they not the best at skiing?”

“I have no idea, but I don’t want to see Jace a lot on this trip if I can avoid it.”

Magnus hums. “Hey, I’m sure you can work this out. He’s your brother. He would never intentionally make you unhappy.”

Alec gives him a look, somewhere between softness and confusion. Magnus doesn’t ask what it means, he just casts Alec a light smile. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

Alec nods. “I’m sure. Bring your board on the trip, okay? Do you have a bag for it?” Magnus nods in turn. “Good. I’ll, uh, I’ll write you down a list of stuff you’re going to need, okay?”

Magnus smiles softly. “I think I can manage to pack for a week away. I know what I need.”

“Oh, yeah?” Alec challenges. “Did you know there’s an indoor pool, so you might want to bring stuff for swimming?” Magnus casts him a sheepish smile. “Exactly, I’m going to get my notepad.”

“You want me to pause the film?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve seen it a million times before.”

Magnus shifts back on the sofa to let Alec pass, watches him leave the room. He finds his eyes drifting down Alec’s back, following the curve of his spine, the way fabric of his shirt pulls this way and that when he walks. Turning his head, Magnus forces himself to focus on the film rather than Alec’s body.

It isn’t right to stare when nothing can come of it.

* * *

It is dark when Magnus gets home.

“Dad?” he calls into the apartment, relaxing slightly at a call of greeting from within.

Hanging his jacket up on the hook beside the door, toeing his shoes off and kicking them onto the rack, Magnus takes a breath and steels himself for the coming conversation. He wanders down the entranceway, hesitating in the open arch as he sees Ragnor in the kitchen. He is frying something over the hob of the oven.

He cranes his head around to see Magnus, casting him a smile. “How was your coffee date? I know you said you were just friends, but I know that look. I know _you_ too well.”

Magnus smiles faintly. “Yeah, it’s kinda… it’s a bit complicated I think.”

“Well, sit down,” says Ragnor. “You can tell me all about him over dinner. I’m making rica; your favourite.”

Magnus does as he is told, taking a stool at the kitchen island. He puts his chin in his hand, the other hand drumming his fingertips atop the counter. The image of Alec’s smile is etched into his brain; he sees the curves of his body behind closed eyes. He wants to be sketching.

His dad sets a bowl in front of him and Magnus smiles softly, thanks him and picks up his fork. Sighing, he sets it down again almost immediately. “Dad, I need to run something by you and… I need you to agree to it.”

Ragnor pauses, setting his fork down in turn and giving his adoptive son his full attention. “Sweetheart, what’s happened?”

Magnus shakes his head. “No, it’s… it’s nothing bad, it’s just… Alec, he’s… he’s been having a rough time of it recently. His brother accidentally outed him to their dad, and now he’s trying to get Alec to go to conversion therapy.”

“Oh, Christ,” Ragnor mutters, leaning back slightly to rake a hand into his hair.

“But his dad says that, provided he brings his boyfriend to their family retreat on the fifteenth of next month, then he will know that Alec means it and he’ll know that he can’t force him to change. If he doesn’t, then his dad will believe it’s just ‘gay tendencies’ and force him into conversion therapy.”

Ragnor eyes Magnus warily. “So, what’s the problem? Alec’s boyfriend doesn’t want to go?”

Magnus swallows hard. “Well, that’s the thing. Alec doesn’t actually have a boyfriend, and his brother might’ve… might’ve seen us together.”

His adoptive father said nothing about that. He was probably as accepting as a parent could get regarding Magnus’s fluid sexuality, understanding of his needs and desires. “So Jace thinks you’re his boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” says Magnus, “and I need to go on this trip or Alec is fucked—”

“Language, Mags.”

“Sorry,” Magnus utters instinctively, swallows hard. “I need to go with him and pretend to date him. It’s only a week and it’s the first week of Christmas break. Alec’s uni gives him the same as the academy. I can work on my sketches during the vacation. It’s—It’s travel like you wanted, and I’ll get to see a ton of life. I promise, I’ll be drawing every spare minute. I’ll get some inspiration.”

Ragnor waves a hand to stop his rambles. “Magnus, this is… this is one of your textbook crazy schemes, and usually I’d be okay with it, but… if you want me to tell you that I’m okay with you being around a man who actively supports conversion therapy, then—”

“Dad, nothing’s going to happen.”

“Sure. _You_ , Magnus Bane, living under the same roof as a raging homophobe for a full week. That isn’t a recipe for disaster!”

Magnus pouts his displeasure. “Well, there’s no need for the sarcasm.”

“Magnus, I’m serious,” says Ragnor, sobering suddenly and leaning forward. “I’m worried for you. How could Alec even bring this up?”

“It was my idea.”

Ragnor huffs and shakes his head disbelievingly. “Of course it was.”

Magnus purses his lips, ducking his gaze down to the table. “There’s, uh… There’s something else…” He takes a breath and clears his throat. “When Alec’s brother saw us… it was when we were going into the bathroom of that club… Alec’s the guy from the club, the one I told you about.”

Ragnor stares at him a long moment, one eyebrow arched judgementally. “The guy who ran out on you after you gave him a blowjob in the bathroom?”

Magnus huffs. “Can you not talk about blowjobs, dad?”

“Magnus, after what he did, I don’t trust him. Why would you trust him?”

“Because he’s been struggling with accepting who he is for years,” says Magnus. “Because I won’t let his father force conversion therapy onto him. If I could’ve done something to help and I don’t, and if something happens to him as a result…” He shakes his head, swallowing hard. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Magnus…”

“Dad, he ran out on me because he was terrified of accepting himself… because he was scared of someone finding out. They did, because of me. I need to fix this.”

Ragnor shakes his head firmly. “This is not your fault. You’re not the one forcing conversion therapy on this boy.”

Magnus swallows hard, glancing up to his adoptive father, willing him to understand. “I need to do this…” He gestures an absent hand, an offer. “How about I convince Alec to come here for dinner or something? You can be all judgmental and scary and tell him that if he hurts me you’ll kick his ass, the whole nine yards.”

Sighing softly, Ragnor shakes his head and gives Magnus a dubious, yet fond, kind of look. “You’re not going to give this up, are you?”

Magnus looks at him steadily. “No,” he says. “I can’t.”

Ragnor huffs and gives an uncertain shrug. “Okay… Look, I won’t say I have to meet this boy, but I… I want to at least have a conversation with him. I won’t subject him to a dinner though.”

Magnus nods, slow and thoughtful. “Okay, how about if I get Alec to pick me up from the academy after class on Friday? You can meet him, but it’ll be casual and brief. I don’t want either of you freaking out.”

Ragnor takes his fork, gestures it to Magnus’s plate. “Eat your dinner.”

Magnus doesn’t. “Is that permission to go on this trip with Alec?”

“It’s me telling you to eat your dinner.” The bluntness of his voice makes Magnus hesitate more, simply staring Ragnor down until he sighs. “It’s a maybe, okay? Let me meet him first and then I’ll give you my answer.”

“Right,” Magnus says, ducks his gaze and flicks it back up. “Dad?”

“Yes, Magnus?”

“Do you really think that Alec’s dad… that he could actually do that? Force Alec into conversion therapy?”

Ragnor looks up at him. “You know his story better than I do. You tell me.”

Magnus hums, chewing thoughtfully on his food. He remembers how distraught Alec had been during their conversation in this very apartment. Alec is scared. Scared of his father, scared of being himself, scared of disappointing his family. It isn’t right for him to be so afraid all the time. He deserves a break.

Then and there, Magnus vows to make it his mission that Alec at least somewhat enjoys this vacation.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec receives a less-than-supportive phone call from his angered mother. He finally faces Ragnor in an attempt to gain approval on Magnus's plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @PhoenixStar73, @codenamepenguin, @ilovemanicures, @royalelephant, and @jinxie86 for your wonderful comments and to everyone who left kudos on the last chapter!

Alec wakes with a start, shocked into consciousness by a trilling ringtone, eyes opening to an illuminated phone upon his bedside table.

Aside from that, it is mostly dark. Artificial light filters from the bottom of the curtains. Magnus’s name and a blank profile photo flash across the screen of Alec four-year out of date phone, ringing out loudly in breaking the prior quiet, blocking out the usual hum of the city outside, car engines and sirens in the near distance.

The clock at the top of the screen 02:17. Alec groans and grabs it, picking out the charger and sliding the phone icon across to accept the call.

“Magnus,” he greets sleepily as he brings it to his ear. “You okay?”

“ _Am_ I _okay? You sound like a zombie._ ”

Alec huffs, rolls onto his back. “You have no idea what time it is, do you?”

“It’s like eleven, what are you talking about?”

Closing his eyes and stifling a yawn, Alec turns onto his side, rests the phone atop the pillow beside his head. “Do me a favour,” he says, fights not to sound tired even though he’s still half asleep. “Find a clock and look at the time. I’ll wait.”

There’s a soft scuffle from the phone, a moment of silence before, “ _shit, I didn’t even realise… I swear it was like half ten a second ago. I just sat down to sketch._ ”

“You know you lose track of time when you sketch,” says Alec chidingly, though his voice holds no heat. He’s too tired to be annoyed. Magnus might be an insomniac, but Alec certainly is not. “Doesn’t matter. What’s up?”

“ _No, I’m going to hang up and let you go back to sleep. Sorry, this was a dick move._ ”

“Well, I’m awake now,” Alec says, runs a hand into his hair. “Are you okay? Did you talk to your dad?”

“ _Yeah, that’s what I was calling about. He wants to meet you. Can you do Friday?”_

Alec hums his agreement. “Yeah, I can do Friday. You mean like… dinner, or…?”

“ _No, nothing so dire. Just a chat after my last class of the week, maybe we could do an info-dump session afterwards… My dad just wants to talk. Is that okay?_ ”

Alec nods. “Yeah, that’s… well, it’s way more lenient than I was expecting.”

Magnus hums; Alec hears a faint scratching sound from his end of the line. “ _It’ll be fine; it’s only deciding whether or not I can come on this trip with you so… no pressure. I’m going to let you sleep now. I’m sorry about waking you with thos_.”

“S’okay,” says Alec, struggles not to let the panic set in his chest. “I’ll see you Friday. Night.”

There is a brief pause from Magnus. “ _Goodnight, Alexander_.”

The call ends and Alec twists around to place his phone atop his bedside table. He settles back against the pillows, sighs slowly and closes his eyes. He fights back the panic rising in his chest, breathes out slowly.

In just under a week, Magnus’s dad will be deciding his fate. Based on how he and Magnus started off, Alec isn’t holding out much hope. He doesn’t blame Magnus’s father for not trusting him. If Alec was in his place and it was _his_ son asking about this, there is no way in hell he would let it happen.

If Ragnor has any sense, he will smack Alec and tell him to stay away from Magnus. Alec wouldn’t blame him. He would accept it. His father will take him to conversion therapy, maybe it will work and Alec will be straight. Maybe his father will have what he wanted then; his perfect family.

Alec struggles to sleep after the call. When he manages to fall asleep, he is wrenched awake in what seems like seconds, his alarm going off to signal his first lecture of the week: 09:00 Monday morning. He showers and dresses robotically, packs his books up and laptop into his bag and leaves his room. He skips breakfast. He usually does.

The lecture is a three-hour session of powerpoint slides and Imogen droning about how most of them will want to think about signing into a defence organisation; people will pay more, she says. Alec daydreams about crushing her with nothing but his words, catching her out on some point of law in a case to preserve coral reefs or national parks.

He takes his notes on the important points, dutifully answers when Imogen happens to call on him for a defence argument of a criminal case they have been studying for weeks. She praises him, moves on, and the lecture seems to pass much faster after that. Soon enough, Alec is gathering up his notes and his laptop and walking back to his flat building.

Outside his room, his phone rings and Alec curses as his bag slides off his shoulder and he drops his card in his haste to grab it. He has never had so many calls in his life. Two is too many. He holds his complaining phone in his mouth and grabs his bag in one hand, picking up his card with the other and buzzing it against the door to his room. He tosses his bag under his desk, lets the door swing shut behind him as he pockets his card and takes his phone. Grimacing softly at the caller ID, the slides the icon across to accept.

“Mother,” he greets as he brings it to his ear, already suspecting what she is calling for.

“ _Alec, do you have any idea what you’ve done?_ ”

Alec sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. She is nothing if not predictable. “Is this about Magnus?”

“ _Oh, that’s his name is it? Well, that’s some information I would’ve liked to hear about six months ago!_ ” His mother takes a steadying breath, fighting to control her temper. “ _Alec, why didn’t you tell me? This is why you’ve been so distant from us lately, isn’t it? It’s that boy._ ”

Shaking his head, Alec leans against the wall beside his door. “No, mom. Magnus isn’t—”

“ _I don’t think you understand what you’ve done. I had to explain to my father and my mother in-law that you are bringing a boy to our_ family _vacation. You know what they’re like, Alec._ I _had to have that conversation with them… By God, why couldn’t you just think this through?_ ”

Alec closes his eyes briefly, takes a deep breath through his nose. He can’t explain to his mother why this had to happen. She doesn’t know about her husband’s scheming; all the talk of ‘fixing’ Alec with conversion therapy was between him and his father. His mother didn’t get involved in such things.

“Look, Mom, this is… it’s bigger than a few awkward conversations with Nana, okay? This is who I am.”

His mother lets out a huff of air. “ _I don’t even know_ who _you are anymore._ ”

“I’m the same person I’ve always been,” Alec insists, firmer now.

“ _I’ll believe it when I see it… Just don’t expect me to be a gracious host. You can clearly take care of yourself without need of me or my opinion._ ”

“Mom,” Alec begins, but the phone just beeps at him and he brings it down to see his mother has disconnected their call. “Damnit…”

He clenches his hand hard around his mobile, forces it to relax when he fears the device breaking. What he really wants to do is throw it. A full scenario pops into his head when he pictures himself throwing his phone, cracking it open on the floor or against the wall. He could run then.

No one would have any means of contacting him. He could hide out at Magnus’s, work mundane jobs long enough to fly off somewhere new. Somewhere new would be anywhere but America or France.

Alec closes his eyes, imagines himself somewhere hot, stood on a beach with the sun’s rays beating down on his bare chest. He imagines swimming trunks, patterned in colourful flowers and sprayed with sea water. He imagines the sand between his toes, lofty palm trees above his head. Magnus is stood in the surf, a white smile dazzling in the sunlight, his tan chest gleaming with droplets of saltwater.

Alec forcibly snaps his eyes open, breathing hard. His dorm room comes back to him, darkness to replace the overwhelming light of his vision.

“Fuck,” he utters, readjusting his jeans, too tight suddenly, willing himself to calm down because nothing like that will ever happen.

After what has happened between them, how terrible Alec was when they first met, he will never have Magnus, not like that. At most, they will be friends for a while before they drift apart, life pulling them in opposite directions. Alec will be a lawyer like his mother. Magnus will be an artist like his father.

They are simply too different.

* * *

Alec gets to the academy early after a mediocre week of lectures.

Magnus had texted him a few times since Monday, once just to check in, continuing in anxious query when Alec didn’t reply. Alec hadn’t replied. Magnus gave him all the information he needed in his string of unanswered texts.

Now, it is twenty minutes to five. He prides himself on being punctual, and he hopes that being there with plenty of time will help to sway Ragnor to his side. Magnus is still in class, so Alec waits outside. The doors are partly glass, allowing him to peer into the room.

It is a large room, but cluttered with wooden tables and half-finished sculptures and canvases. Students are sat around the tables, leaned over notepads, pencils working quickly, giving one another plenty of space to work. There is an older man walking between them, glancing over their shoulders, occasionally pointing something out.

Alec can only assume this is the lecturer. Magnus’s dad.

To say that Ragnor is intimidating would be a slight understatement. The lecturer has dark grey hair, turning white in haphazard locks, his brows low, his eyes dark and stern. He looks nothing like Magnus—they aren’t even related after all—but Alec can see something of Magnus in his dad.

There is a sense of agelessness about them both, a pride that keeps their heads high and their eyes alive with light.

The time reaches five o’clock and Ragnor glances to his watches, claps his hands together and says something to the class. Everyone packs up their notepads and Alec sees Magnus, slinging his satchel bag over his shoulder. The rest of the class flocks out of the room. Alec enters.

He clears his throat softly and Magnus turns to him, smiles lightly and wanders over. “Hey, I was just about to text you… You okay?”

“I’m fine,” says Alec. “Sorry I haven’t been very available this past week. I’ve been… I’ve been thinking.”

Magnus nods. “I understand,” he says, pauses a moment. “Alec, if you ever need help—”

“I’m fine,” Alec repeats, glances over Magnus’s shoulder to where Ragnor is watching them, none-too subtly. “I should meet your dad.”

For a moment, Magnus simply looks at him. Alec wonders what he is thinking. Perhaps he is angry at Alec for ignoring him. Finally, he nods and gestures for Alec to follow him, leading him over to his dad, who comes to meet them halfway. Alec initiates the introduction, needing to feel in control of that at least.

“Hi, I’m Alec,” he says, sticking his hand out for Magnus’s dad to shake.

“Ragnor Fell,” came the reply and Alec nods. The lecturer glances to his son. “Mags, give us a moment, okay?”

Magnus looks to Alec, who nods again, feigning confidence. He had never been in a relationship before. He had no idea what he was doing. Everything about Magnus has made him to pretend to be something he’s not. Upon their initial meeting, Alec had faked being a player. He had been open and vulnerable with Magnus when he spilled the truth. Now, he needs confidence. He doesn’t have it.

Ragnor watches his son walk away, waits until he leaves the room before turning back to Alec. “I’m going to be blunt for a moment, so don’t panic. I know my son and he is more sensitive than you probably realise. I don’t know how much he’s told you about himself, but I do know that there are things he definitely has not told you.”

Alec nods slowly. “Yeah, I—I get it. He’s not really forthcoming about his family or—I—I know you’re his family, I meant—Not that you’re not his dad, but—”

“It’s okay,” says Ragnor, looks at him strangely. “You’re not… I think I’ve had the wrong impression of you. You’re nervous.”

“How would I not be nervous?” says Alec, frowning softly. “I… Look, what I did to Magnus was really bad. Running away from him like that was… it was stupid, and I did it twice. I don’t know why he would ever trust me, or why he would do me any favours after that…”

“He’s a good person,” says Ragnor. “Remember that, alright?”

Alec nods. “Yeah, I know… God, I’ve only known him a few weeks and he’s… he might be one of the best friends I have… Maybe that says more about me than about him, but…” He takes a deep breath. “Look, I know how important Magnus is and I know how much you care about him. I’m going to do everything I can to shield him from my family.”

Ragnor tilts his head, breathes out slowly. “Alec… I don’t approve of how you and Magnus started off and, honestly, I don’t want my son exposed to your family, but I _am_ sorry. From what I’ve heard of your family, your father especially… I’m sorry you have to go through that.”

Alec simply stares at him a moment. It’s strange to have Magnus’s dad giving him sympathy. He had been expecting to be yelled at. Ragnor tilts his head softly and Alec is pretty sure both Magnus and his dad have weird psychic powers that let them sniff out emotion like a police dog with bombs.

“My point is… if you have any feelings for Magnus other than friendship, please be careful. Do not act on it unless you’re absolutely sure it’s what you want.”

Alec swallows hard, wills himself to ignore what his imagination had fed him just this morning. “No, I… I don’t like him like that. I just… I got him mixed up in this and it’s my fault. He shouldn’t even be helping me. He’s kind.” He shakes his head. “I’m not going to date him. He doesn’t want me anyway. I was such an ass to him.”

Ragnor says nothing to that.

“I understand you have some info-dump session to get on with, so I’ll let you go,” he says and Alec frowns.

“Magnus told you about those?”

Ragnor quirks him a soft smile. “Magnus tells me everything.”

Alec blinks quickly, unable to imagine having such a relationship with his family. His parents would be horrified by him if he told them everything. They would despise him. Ragnor gives him a pitying kind of look, ducks his gaze and sighs slowly. His eyes close.

“I’m going to tell Magnus that he can go with you if he wants to,” he says and Alec glances up at him in shock. “He doesn’t need my permission, he’s an adult, but I like to think he values my approval.”

“He does,” says Alec, nods quickly. “I don’t know everything about him, you’re right, but I know you are the most important person in his life. I know he loves you. He wouldn’t do anything to upset you.”

Working his jaw briefly, Ragnor gives Alec a measured kind of look. “You’re not used to that, are you?”

That shocks him a little. Alec finds himself resenting the perceptiveness of Magnus and his dad. He isn’t used to being called out so bluntly. Certainly, his family life isn’t perfect, but it isn’t anything worth complaining about in Alec’s opinion. You don’t get to choose your family after all.

“I suppose that was rude of me,” says Ragnor, surveys Alec with those dark, imploring eyes, just like his son. “You’re not under any obligation to tell me about your home life. I’m sorry. It’s habit. I used to be an emergency foster carer, so I’ve become pretty good at seeing when someone is struggling.”

That had been covered in their info-dump sessions, how Ragnor had fostered dozens of children before becoming a lecturer, back in his art days when he simply drew from home to make money. Magnus had been the one he finally adopted. They didn’t go into much depth as to how exactly that happened; Magnus simply left it at that.

Still, Alec did not appreciate being deemed a ‘troubled kid’. He was above average in class, often right at the top in grades. He didn’t do drugs or even drink that often—only when Jace and Isabelle dragged him out to the institute—and he had never been in any kind of trouble with authority.

He had broken a boy’s nose when he was a kid, but that didn’t make him a problem. It just meant he knew how to stand up for himself when someone was being a bully.

Alec hums at the memory and shrugs one shoulder to shake off Ragnor’s accusatory words. “Well, I’m fine. I’m not struggling with anything.”

“Sure, your father threatening you with conversion therapy is completely healthy behaviour.”

Swallowing hard, Alec’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He had no argument for that. He knew what his father was trying to do, that he wanted his perfect family, that he wanted Alec to be able to fit in without struggle. It’s why Alec never came out to his family. He believed he could hide that side of himself, the side that lingered too long on pretty boys or daydreamed about marriage and children with a husband at his side.

He thought he could be perfect, or at least fake perfection. He knows now how wrong he had been. Now everything is out in the open and, honestly, part of Alec is relieved that he doesn’t have to hide who he is anymore. He hopes that this week of fake-dating with Magnus will be the last bit of pretending he ever has to do.

Ragnor sighs, reaches to place a light touch upon Alec’s arm. “I’m not going to pressure you to talk about this, but I can recommend a therapist if you ever think you need a professional to talk to. A _real_ therapist. Not one who will try to change you, just one who might help you realise that… that what your father is doing is not okay.”

Alec feels his lips tremble and he presses them together, hard. Crying is pointless. Alec cant remember the last time he cried and he will not cry now. Ragnor seems to understand how affected he is, however, and he retracts his hand from Alec’s arm.

“I’ll let you get on,” he says. “Magnus is probably at the vending machine. It’s just down the hall to the left.”

Alec feels Ragnor’s eyes on his back when he makes his hasty exit. Forget going to therapy, he feels as though Ragnor has just psychoanalysed him.

As it turns out, Ragnor is absolutely right about Magnus. He is crouched in front of a vending machine towards the exit, pulling a 3 musketeers bar from the drop point at the bottom. Alec raises a querying eyebrow at him as he approaches.

“Seriously? It’s just nougat.”

“Uh, it’s delicious and it’s vegetarian,” Magnus says, biting off a chunk. “I have limited options. Back off.” Alec allows himself to smile and Magnus chews, swallows before asking “so, is everything okay?”

Alec nods. “Yeah, he said you could come, so… yeah, we’re good.”

Magnus looks at him a while longer, not a trace of relief on his expression, just a hint of curiosity like he could see into Alec’s soul. “And are _you_ okay?”

“I’m fine,” says Alec immediately.

It isn’t true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to look up American chocolate for this and according to the internet 3 musketeers is vegetarian? Feel free to yell at me if you're American and you know better. I'm British and I don't have a clue. Apparently a 3 musketeers is like a milky way and those are my favourite, so I figured they must be good? Again, not a clue.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus and Alec begin their journey to the retreat. Their first stop: the airport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my recent commenters: @Verunka, @jinxie86, @jillyfae (thank you for your knowledge of American chocolate!), and @royalelephant!

It is the night before they are set to leave on vacation and Magnus can’t sleep.

Alec has everything prepared, all their tickets and transport ready, and Magnus had packed his suitcase yesterday, leaving his carry-on for the morning. They have completed all of their info-dump sessions, the last one was just a murmur from Alec that he didn’t know what else to go through, a few minutes of awkward silence followed by sheepish smiles in the realisation that they had covered everything of importance.

It should be anxiety keeping Magnus from sleeping, nerves about meeting Alec’s family busying his mind. It isn’t. It’s not really anything. He is just awake. Sighing softly, he rolls over in bed, reaching to his phone and taps it. The time reads 02:01.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, pushes himself up and clicks his lamp on.

Movement shifts in his peripheral and he startles, stares at the corner of his room for a minute. Everything is quiet. The room is still. Magnus sighs and presses his palms to his eyes, used to these little ticks of border-line hallucination. There is nothing there. He knows that.

If it was his mother—which is wishful thinking at best and schizophrenia at worst—then she would make herself known. When his mother had taught him of spirits, it was always tied to objects, to places. Magnus has his mother’s things. He can never bring himself to part with them. Distant as she had been, she is still his mother and, dead or not, that doesn’t change.

He takes his journal from his bedside table, runs a hand over the cover, a finger over the gold-bronze buckle.

“Am I doing the right thing?” he asks in a whisper, desperate for an answer. “Alec, he’s…” He sighs softly, hugs the journal to his chest. “I’m always sure of things. I want to be sure about this… about helping Alec. I _do_ want to help him.” He pressed his forehead to his knees as he drew his legs to his chest. “I’m tired, mama…”

There is no answer. There never is; that isn’t the point. When Magnus went to therapy after being adopted by Ragnor, he was told that talking aloud to her might help him. Some people wrote diaries or did vlogs. Magnus talks to his mother’s spirit; whatever is left of her. Maybe it helps, maybe it doesn’t. It can’t hurt.

He runs a hand up into his hair, breathes out slowly and lifts his head from his knees. Sliding out of bed, he takes his journal to his desk, grabs a short pencil and begins sketching. He needs practice in eyes. The more he draws, the more he realises that every pair of eyes is the same. They all have that same dark shading, the steeled distance, the beauty.

Magnus wonders why it is Alec Lightwood who has breathed a spark into his creative slump. He elects to not question it. Art is art, and all of his lecturers have been more impressed with his work since he and Alec met. Magnus himself has been more impressed with his work since they met.

It is not just Alec’s beauty; it is his complexity that Magnus admires, his tolerance of the life he has been given. It is incredible. He was less than admirable when Magnus first met him, but now, considering the family he has, Magnus is impressed that he didn’t turn out exactly like them.

Magnus knows how big of an influence family is simply from how much people say he is like Ragnor. He is glad to be. It is better than the alternative family he could have been like; his abandoning father, his abusive stepfather, his paranoid mother. He is proud to be like Ragnor.

More than anything, he hopes his dad is proud of him too.

* * *

“Magnus! Alec’s here!”

Magnus huffs and holds his eyeliner between his fingers. “Let him in then! I’m decent!”

It is four hours before their flight is due to leave. Magnus has packed his bags and is dressed for the journey, a red button-up shirt beneath a blueish grey jacket with cuffed sleeves and gold threads laced across dark shoulder patches. Black skinny jeans end in studded grey wedge boots to match his jacket.

It is one o’clock. He hasn’t had lunch yet and he only ended up sleeping a few hours on and off last night, and Alec is here already. Magnus and Ragnor had made a bet last night before retiring to their respective rooms on just how early Alec would be. Magnus bet three hours. Ragnor bet four. They didn’t bet with money, just bragging rights, which Ragnor is now entitled to.

The door to his room opens and Magnus doesn’t look up, busy lining his eyes.

“You know we’re going on a plane and not to a fashion show, right?”

Magnus hums distractedly. “Yes, but I pride myself on maintaining a certain look.”

“And what look is that?”

“Greatness, Alexander.”

Alec chuckles softly and Magnus instinctively looks to him just to see his smile, the curve of his lips, the flash of teeth, committing every detail to memory. Alec has a beautiful smile, made so much more gorgeous simply because it is so rare. It makes Magnus sad sometimes, when he thinks about how little reason Alec has to smile.

“Are you ready?” Alec asks.

“As long as I can get lunch at the airport,” says Magnus, blinking rapidly to settle his eyeliner.

“Yeah, I’ll, uh… I’ll buy you something.”

“Not what I meant, Alec,” says Magnus, glancing to him. “You aren’t just your money, you know that, don’t you?” He sighs softly when Alec purses his lips in thought. “I used to think you were in a relationship before with someone who used you for your money. Then you said you’d never been in a relationship.”

Alec shrugs. “Yeah, I guess I just… I never wanted a relationship because I… Well, I was in the closet.”

Magnus hums softly. “I understand,” he utters, holds Alec’s gaze. “I need you to understand too. You don’t have to pay my way. I can take care of myself.”

Alec bites his lower lips, nods slowly. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

Smiling at him, Magnus stands, takes his satchel over one shoulder and his suitcase handle in the other hand. “Ready when you are.”

Alec nods, leads the way into the main room of the loft. Ragnor is there, his arms folded over his chest. There is a pinch to his brow that Magnus takes for concern and he lets his gaze soften, standing his suitcase and going to his dad. Ragnor tilts his head, lifts a hand to touch his arm.

“Have you got everything? Where’s your passport?”

“In my bag.”

“Your ticket?”

“Again, it’s in my bag.”

“Medication and prescription note?”

“Say it with me now—”

Ragnor waves his hand. “It’s in your bag, yes, okay. There’s no need to be snarky. I need to make sure you’ve got your prescription because you might get it checked at border control.” Magnus nods, turns to Alec. “Hang on, wait,” his dad says, calling his attention back. “France is six hours ahead, but don’t try to compensate for the time gap, just keep taking them with breakfast or you’ll never get any sleep—”

“Dad,” Magnus interrupts, standing his suitcase beside Alec’s and coming back to stand before his father. “I know how they work. I’ll remember my pills. I’ve got everything I need.” He wraps his arms around Ragnor’s shoulders, hugging him tightly. “I’ll call you when we get to the lodge.”

Sighing softly, Ragnor drops his arms around Magnus’s waist, embracing him in turn. “I’m allowed to worry about you, Mags. It’s my job to worry about you.”

“I know,” says Magnus, accepting the kiss his dad presses to his temple before they part, “but I’ll be okay. I’ll see you in a week, alright? Love you.”

“I love you too,” Ragnor murmurs, lifting his gaze to glance between his son and Alec. “Be safe, both of you.”

Alec seems a little taken aback by that, but he nods shortly. Magnus forces his expression not to change, knowing that Alec won’t appreciate his sympathy. He simply goes to his suitcase and nudges Alec out the apartment. He waves to his dad before closing the door, leads Alec down the hall into the elevator and they take it to the ground floor.

“You got everything?” Alec asks as they wander outside.

Magnus scoffs softly. “You sound like my dad. Worriers, both of you. Too planned.”

“Planning is important,” says Alec, hails a taxi with an outcast hand. “How would you ever get anything done unless you plan?”

“Well, there’s something the kids are calling ‘spontaneity’.”

Alec huffs softly, watching a taxi pull up beside them. “You sound ancient, you know that?”

“You boys need help with those bags?” the driver asks, to which Alec shakes his head. “Suit yourself. Trunk’s open. Just shove it hard to lock it again.”

“Thanks,” Alec says. He lifts his bag in, takes Magnus’s for him and shoves the lid of the trunk down to lock it. “Newark Airport, please,” he says as they climb into the back.

“Right you are,” the driver says cheerfully, pulls off onto the road.

They are quiet on the journey, Alec answering some scattered questions and remarks from the driver and Magnus gazing absently out the window. It was real now. They were going and once they stepped onto that plane, there would be no turning back. Despite all their sessions, all their shared stories, Magnus feels underprepared.

Alec’s family are prejudiced and proud and Magnus might be a little terrified of displeasing them. He knows he will; by nothing but his person, he will displease them. He isn’t white or straight or female, or even American. He is a bisexual man of colour and an immigrant and less than wealthy. He isn’t good enough for Alec.

A hand touches his shoulder, drawing his gaze to Alec beside him. “You okay?”

Magnus nods. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Alec seems to accept that. Either he believes it, or he simply doesn’t wish to push Magnus into talking. Regardless, he smiles and tilts his head a little. “It’s not going to all bad, y’know… The trip. You can get a lot of boarding done and you can do your sketches…” He gave an optimistic half shrug. “Some of it might be fun.”

Magnus hums, gives him a wan smile. “Yeah.”

When they get to the airport, Alec hands Magnus his bag from the trunk, pays the driver, and they begin a long day of walking. Airports are always at least 70% walking, Magnus has found. Ragnor used to bring him on trips when he was an artist, unveilings at exhibits or charity auctions where his work was sold.

Those events were where Magnus learned his sense of style. The men were all in tailored suits, which was nice, but they were black and white. The women were all in colourful, embroidered dresses, which Magnus thought were beautiful, but he didn’t appreciate all the extra fabric around the legs. Charisma and colour. The two blended into one when Magnus assembled his wardrobe. Ragnor was delighted. It was the first way Magnus had found to express himself in his new home.

Alec had listened intently when Magnus told him of these events just last week. He had never been to a country outside America, excluding these family trips to France, but Alec insisted it didn’t really count, as he had never been outside of that little spot in the Alps. Magnus wants him to see Paris, but Alec insisted they would be late to the lodge if they lingered in the city, and his father expected them there at midday (in French time, anyway).

They check their bags in, step through metal detectors. Magnus keeps setting his off, just because he forgets about how much jewellery he has on, but they eventually make it through into the main section of the airport. The waiting around section.

“Lunch?” Alec asks, and Magnus nods in agreement with his clenched stomach.

As it turns out, despite all of Magnus’s protests, it is simply easier to let Alec pay for both their meals. Alec points out a little restaurant selling Chinese food, which surprises Magnus for a moment, before he remembers that Alec is a university student living in halls. He probably lives on takeaway.

Alec stares at the menu a long time before Magnus asks, “what do you usually have?”

Pursing his lips slightly, Alec barely glances to him. “Duck pancakes,” he admits.

“Well, why don’t you have that then?” Alec hesitates and Magnus casts him a knowing look. “Alec, you know you’re allowed to eat meat in front of me, right? Please, don’t turn me into one of those Nazi vegans who get offended by people wearing wool because they don’t know the basics of agriculture.”

“It’s your religion Magnus, it’s not exactly a casual lifestyle choice.”

“Yes, Alec, it’s _my_ religion. You don’t have to adhere to the rules. Please, order what you want.”

Alec glances to him, nods shortly. “Sorry,” he utters.

“And you don’t have to apologise either.”

Alec opens his mouth, closes it again with a sheepish smile and they go to order. Alec has duck pancakes, Magnus has tofu chow mein. Alec’s eyes keep flicking to Magnus’s food as they eat, a soft furrow to his brow like he’s concentrating very hard. Magnus can’t hold back a smile for long.

“What is it?” he asks finally.

Alec barely hesitates having been given an opening. “Does it taste like sponge?”

“Does what taste like sponge, Alexander?”

“Tofu. My brother used to say it was like little bits of sponge.”

Magnus chuckles softly. “Apparently your brother eats it straight out the packet… It’s not an easy thing to prepare, I’ll give him that. You should suggest for him to press it, freeze it if he wants. It gets denser then and it won’t taste like sponge.”

“Honestly, I don’t know if he’s ever eaten it.”

Magnus hums through a mouthful of food. “Usually the case,” he says, swallows. “Do you want to try a piece?”

Alec hesitated a moment and Magnus speared a piece on a chopstick, offering it to him. Taking it off the end of the stick made Magnus chuckle softly and Alec’s lips twitches like he is fighting back a smile. Alec puts it in his mouth, chews thoughtfully.

“It’s kind of… spicey?”

“That’ll be the spice,” Magnus says through a chuckle. “There’s no flavour when you eat it on it’s own, which is why no one eats it on it’s own. It absorbs the flavour of whatever you’re cooking it with. The cooks here apparently rubbed it in seasoning before even cooking it. It’s pretty good for an airport restaurant.”

Alec nods. “Yeah, it’s not bad,” he says, gives Magnus a small smile and they each go back to their lunches.

Alec does end up paying just because they receive a joint bill and it is set in front of him. Magnus insists he should chip in, but Alec only has twenties and Magnus huffs and lets him pay. He ignores the implication of their waitress that Alec is the dominant one in their relationship. It makes sense. Alec is tall and muscular and his jawline is to die for.

“Hey,” Alec says as they stand and exit the restaurant and Magnus draws his attention away from the sharp lines of Alec’s body. “If anyone asks on the flight, then we’re boyfriends,” says Alec, glancing to him. “You never know.”

Magnus nods. “Yeah, and it’ll be good practice too.” He casts Alec a smile, taking his hand. “So, shall we get going, babe?”

Alec huffs and ducks his head, biting his lower lip a little. “Hate you,” he mutters.

“Shush, you love me,” Magnus teases, but he releases Alec’s hand. “Come on. I want to browse the shops and not buy anything. Prices are crazy in airports, but there’s a lot to see.”

They wander the shops for a bit, find some seats when they get bored of that. Magnus reads his book and Alec scowls at his phone. When Magnus glances over, he sees ‘Jace’ at the top of Alec’s text chain and elects not to ask. Alec has a problematic relationship with his brother at the moment; Magnus doesn’t need to push for the details.

Alec gets up a lot, checks the screen for details on their flight, sits down with a grumbled “it’s still on time”. Magnus purses his lips softly.

“Don’t you have something to do?” Magnus asks, glancing to him.

Alec huffs, shrugs. “I guess I’m usually here with Jace and Izzy. We like to complain the whole time about stuff that has happened on past trips, make bets on what our parents will do… stuff they’ve done or said a ton of times before… It’s kinda hard to talk about it when you’ve never been before.”

Magnus hums in thought, slotting his bookmark into place and giving Alec his full attention. “How about we exchange some more stories? You tell me about the stuff your parents are going to do, and I’ll tell you all the things my dad does when we go to Canada.”

Alec considers it a moment. “Okay,” he says, shifts himself to face Magnus. “You go first.”

So, that’s what they do. Magnus tells him how his dad refuses to go to restaurants, Alec tells him how his dad always snaps his fingers at waiters. Magnus tells him how they drive into the same national park, but rarely the same spot, Alec tells him how they always go to the same trails to ski. Magnus tells him about his Uncle Adriel, how he and Ragnor argue about every little thing.

“Ragnor and Adriel? Your grandparents are kinda creative with names, huh?”

“They’re Norse names,” says Magnus. “My dad’s parents were Norse pagans. I think the religion is called Asatru these days. They’re dead now, but sometimes I think my dad still practices some aspects of their religion.”

Alec nods, his eyes brighter now than before. Magnus smiles softly, pleased to see Alec happy and interested. It’s the same look he had when Magnus was talking about his own religion. Alec had been so sheltered by his family, never discovering anything beyond their Christian ideals. It is good to see him learning about new life.

When their gate opens, they are walking again and waiting some more. They talk about their families as the plane empties of passengers. When it is ready, they call groups of people forward by seat number. Alec listens out for the range covering their seats, glancing to Magnus when it is called.

“You ready?”

Magnus takes a silent breath, steeling himself for the point of no return. Even if he is a little terrified of what is to come, he can’t let Alec see that. Magnus wants Alec to be calm for a long as possible. So, he nods, gives Alec a smile that he hopes is reassuring.

“I’m ready.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus continue their journey to France. When Alec falls asleep on the flight, Magnus gets some sketching done. On the train to the lodge, Magnus shares a little more of his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @PhoenixStar73, @codenamepenguin, and @royalelephant for your comments!

Alec falls asleep about halfway into the flight.

Magnus had seen his eyes drooping for the past hour, casting subtle looks to the young man as he succumbs to his exhaustion. He reaches over to adjust the blanket over Alec’s shoulders, absently pushing stray locks of hair back from his forehead before returning to his book.

There is a shift beside him and Alec turns in his sleep, his cheek pressing against Magnus’s shoulder. For a moment, Magnus doesn’t know what to do. He realises slowly that he doesn’t have to do anything. Alec is asleep. He might be embarrassed when he wakes, but for now he is sleeping.

Magnus just reads his book. He is tired, but that’s nothing new. He is always tired. It’s rarely enough to actually fall asleep. Usually, he fills his nights with sketching, reading, carving something from a block of wood. His medication essentially makes him an insomniac. Magnus doesn’t mind. It’s more time to get things done. Nights are always beautiful.

Now, however, he is stuck on a plane with very limited options.

Alec shifts and mumbles, pressing up closer to him. The woman beside Magnus gives him a soft kind of look, smiling at Magnus when he glances to her.

“I think your husband’s out for the rest of the flight,” she chuckles softly, keeping her voice quiet so as not the disturb all the sleeping passengers.

Magnus shakes his head. “Oh, we’re not married. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh, of course,” says the woman, gesturing to his and Alec’s hands in turn. “No wedding rings. I’m sorry, my mistake.”

“It’s no problem,” says Magnus, slotting his bookmark into place and giving her his full attention. He reaches a hand to her, awkwardly angled in his attempt to not wake Alec. “I’m Magnus.”

“Rosa,” she replies, shaking his hand minutely. “You two off on a romantic getaway?”

Magnus huffs his amusement. “More of a family retreat,” he admits. “His parents own a lodge up in the alps. I’m meeting them for the first time... and his siblings... and his grandparents. Basically everyone in his family.”

Rosa gives him a light smile. “Well, I’m sure they’ll love you.” Magnus hums and obviously it doesn’t sound as convincing as he hoped, because Rosa is looking at him strangely. “Are his family not… the most accepting people?”

Magnus quirks a sad little smile. “No, I don’t think… His father certainly isn’t… From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t sound like the most forgiving individual.” He glances to Alec, combing that stubborn fringe of his back into place. “I guess I’m just worried he’s going to end up being embarrassed by me.”

“Magnus, can I give you some advice?”

He looks to her, nods his acceptance.

“Stop worrying so much,” Rosa says, gives him a gentle look. “From what I’ve seen of the two of you… well, let’s just say I don’t think it was unreasonable of me to think the two of you might have been married. The way the two of you look at each other…” She smiles as Alec stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake. “He loves you… Whatever his family thinks, I don’t believe it will make a lot of difference in his feelings.”

Magnus regards her a short moment. Apparently, he and Alec are outstanding actors. Every person simply assumes they are dating, even _married_ , without even being told. Magnus wonders if he should shift careers into performing arts. Maybe he and Alec simply have natural chemistry. Maybe he had been right the first time they met.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “You’re right…”

They don’t talk a lot—both having books to read—but there is something nice about the company in wakefulness. Magnus isn’t used to that. He is usually alone in consciousness. Rosa is good company, not too talkative, but still there when Magnus takes a break from reading. Still, not everyone shares Magnus’s insomnia, and she is asleep before long.

Magnus reads, sketches a little. Alec shifts in his sleep, his head resting back against the chair, and Magnus takes the opportunity to study his side profile, dedicating an entire page to it, to the curves of Alec’s face, the softness of his sleeping expression. He is sleepy and gorgeous and Magnus spends hours on his sketch studies.

There is a jolt of turbulence about an hour before they are due to land and Alec startles awake, glancing around and rubbing his eyes.

“It’s okay,” says Magnus, recognising the hint of panic when Alec looks at him. “Plane, remember? There was just a bit of turbulence.”

Alec nods. “Yeah,” he says, gives him a sleepy smile. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re tired.”

Alec hums, squints softly as his eyes falls upon Magnus’s journal. He leans forward a little to get a better look. “’s that me?”

“Oh, uh, yes,” admits Magnus, tucking his pencil behind his ear as he follows Alec’s gaze down to his sketches. “I’m sorry, I should have asked before drawing you. I realise that might seem a little creepy. Me drawing you while you were asleep.”

"It's okay. I don't mind," Alec says, reaches an absent hand to touch the page. The pads of his fingers trace around the sketches. “Do I really look like that?”

Magnus shrugs softly. “Well, it’s not an exact copy. It’s a drawing.” He tilts his head a little. “I suppose, it’s what I see.”

For a moment, Magnus swears he sees Alec smile. It’s so subtle, just a hint of a curve upon his lips, a different light to his eyes. Magnus wishes he would smile more. Every drawing of Alec is stern and stony-faced and without a hint of laughter on his expression. Magnus would love to draw him smiling, but it just doesn’t happen often or long enough for him to get an accurate picture.

They don’t talk a lot before the plane lands. Alec stares out the window and Magnus finishes another chapter of his book.

The airports in France are not all that different from the ones in America. The security guards all have guns in their hands and police dogs at their feet. There are longs halls and huge rooms lined with conveyor belts for the bags. Walking and waiting; two constants of air travel that will never falter.

They get their bags in staggered intervals. Both of them have a suitcase and an extra bag for Alec’s skis and Magnus’s snowboard. It takes about forty minutes for them all to show up and they turn to head for the exit. Magnus sees airport security before they get to them, one man with a gun and another with a dog.

“Monsieur’s,” says the one with the gun, lifting a hand to them and both stop immediately. He says something in French that Alec doesn’t understand, but Magnus nods his acceptance.

“I—I’m sorry, what…?” Alec begins, a frown across his face and the officer blinks in realisation.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re American,” he says with a heavy accent. “We’re doing a random bag check, if you wouldn’t mind following us?”

Alec nods. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

They walk over to a separate checking area and the man lifts Alec’s bags onto the table, rifling absently through his things. A handler lets their dog sniff Magnus’s bags before coaxing it back to sit at their feet, obedient and still. The man at the table hums his satisfaction and zips Alec’s bags back up.

“Thank you for your patience,” the security guard says, nods to him and Alec takes that as a sign to take his case.

Magnus watches the guard take his suitcase, quirking a smile at Alec as he looks at him. The security guard searches through, finds nothing of interest and moves onto his satchel bag. He frowns softly and takes out a small, white box with blue writing upon the surface.

“Paroxetine…” the security guy reads out the label, frowning softly.

He continues in French and Magnus replies easily, directing the man inside his bag, nodding when the man pulls out a folded piece of paper and opens it up, compares it to the box in his hand. Apparently satisfied, he nods, replaces Magnus’s things and bids him farewell.

“Merci,” Magnus replies, taking his bags. “Bonne journée." He pulls the strap of his satchel bag over his shoulder, meets Alec at the end of the check-up area and gives him a gentle smile. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” says Alec, seeming a little uncertain. “I didn’t know you spoke French, what’d you say to him?”

Magnus tilts his head slightly at that. “Just telling him where to find my prescription—I know border control don’t tend to like it when you try to do things for them, so I just told him where it was, told him what my meds were for. He said it was all fine and I said bye and wished him a good day.”

Alec huffs and Magnus can tell he is confused. “Why’d you even know French?”

“Oh, I tend to get caught up on languages too easily,” Magnus says distractedly, motioning for Alec to move and they were walking again. “You don’t speak French? I thought you said your family comes here every year.”

“We do,” Alec confirms, adjusting his rucksack as he walks. “My dad doesn’t like us learning languages. It’s basically forbidden. I tried talking to a waiter in French once when I was younger and he gave me such a hassle. He says we shouldn’t have to learn, that everyone should speak English.”

Magnus exhales sharply. “Your dad sounds—”

“Like a dickhead, I know,” Alec finishes, chuckles as Magnus tries to protest. “No, I know you weren’t gonna say that. I’m just telling it how it is.” He gestures to a sign up ahead. “Looks like taxis are this way. Buses and coaches are around there too. Good thing some words are the same.”

“’Taxi’ is pretty similar is a ton of languages,” says Magnus.

Alec glances to him, frowns softly. “Just out of interest… how many languages do you know?”

“About six,” says Magnus honestly. “Well, fluently anyway.”

“Wait, seriously? You’re fluent in six languages?”

Magnus nods, ticking them off on his fingers. “English, French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, Indonesian. Not all Indonesian though, mainly Bahasa.”

Alec nods like he understands what Magnus is talking about. Maybe he does. Alec doesn’t strike him as the kind of person who knows about Indonesian dialects. Magnus only speaks one of them. He speaks more languages in bits and pieces, but it is only those six that he speaks fluently.

Alec apparently elects not to pressure him.

They make it to the coaches without further delay and find the one they are booked onto. Alec shakes hands with the driver, helping her load his and Magnus’s bags in the storage area beneath the coach. Magnus keeps his satchel bag with him. Alec doesn’t ask why.

The coach ride is short enough that they don’t get too deep into any meaningful conversation. They just chat a little about the plane. Alec apologises again for falling asleep on him. Magnus brushes it off, smiles. Alec refuses to look at him suddenly and Magnus can’t help but wonder what is so off-putting about his smile.

The train journey is longer. They are in first class; Alec had secured the tickets earlier in the year. They talk for hours. Magnus tests the waters with their fake-relationship and Alec shoots down all his ideas.

“Alec, come on,” Magnus chides, “if we don’t kiss for the entire week, then your family are going to find that a little weird, right?”

Alec huffs, fumbles with his hands. “Okay, so, only if absolutely necessary are you allowed to kiss me. Only if it would be weird if we didn’t, understood?”

Magnus arches an eyebrow at him. “You think I want to be kissing someone I’m not dating? Trust me, I am completely on board with lacking intimacy, but what I am not on board with is the idea of your dad forcing you into conversion therapy.”

Alec says nothing to that, quickly directs the conversation a different way. Magnus decides not to talk about Robert Lightwood’s threat of conversion therapy. They disregard pet names, unable to agree on any that sound right. Alec quizzes him on his family.

“Okay, so your grandfather is your mom’s dad, and your grandmother is your dad’s mom,” says Magnus, ticking them off on his fingers. “Which I am going to forget. So, your dad’s mom is a Lightwood and your mom’s dad is a Trueblood. Your extended family apparently have very memorable surnames.”

“Yeah, and they are basically polar opposites. My grandmother will talk non-stop and ask you a ton of dumb, offensive questions, and my grandfather will probably not say a single word to you for the entire week.” Alec huffs softly. “There’s no change there. My grandfather is a man of few words. He doesn’t really talk to anyone. Been like that since my grandmother died—my mom’s mom that is, not my dad’s.”

Magnus tilts his head a little, ducks his gaze. “It must’ve been hard for all of you.”

Alec shrugs softly. “Well, I don’t really remember her. It was hard on my mom though. She was inconsolable for weeks.” He smiles suddenly and Magnus angles his head a little. “Izzy and I… we tried for days to help her. When we found out that she wasn’t eating properly, we made her this, uh, this stew recipe we found in one of her old cookbooks. When we gave it to her… it’s the first time I remember seeing her smile.”

Magnus touches his arm. “That was sweet of you both.” He smiles a little. “You’re secretly a big softie, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a bit,” Alec says through half a chuckle.

Magnus smiles, glances out the window of the train. He stifles a yawn, not wishing for Alec to think he is bored.

“Did you sleep on the plane?”

Magnus shakes his head, meets Alec’s concerned gaze. “If I can’t sleep in a bed, there’s no way I’m sleeping on any kind of transport.” He tilts his head, reaches to pat Alec’s arm. “Hey, you don’t need to worry about me. I know by now that you’re a worrier, but just… don’t, okay? I’ve been dealing with this a long time.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” says Alec, a soft frown on his brow. “Can’t the doctors… Can’t they give you some better pills? Ones that actually let you sleep?”

Magnus hums, breathes out a huff of amusement through his nose. “I think it’s probably better if I don’t sleep to be honest…” He shrugs. “Bad dreams.”

“About your mom?” Magnus looks to him, unable to stop his eyes narrowing in a hint of anguish and Alec gapes a moment. “Oh, god, I—I’m sorry. That was… I didn’t mean—”

“No, I just…” Magnus hesitates, thinks a moment. “I don’t like to think about it.”

“I’m sorry,” repeats Alec. “I won’t ask again.”

Magnus sighs, twists his hands in his lap. “I dream about her all the time,” he admits, closes his eyes. “I think it’s because I kept her things. It feels like… like she’s haunting me. I know that sounds stupid.”

“You believe in ghosts?”

Shrugging softly, Magnus absently eyes the satchel bag at his feet. “My mom did.” He sighs, leans back in the seat. “She used to tell me that… people’s spirits latch onto objects, places…” He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I’m sorry, I know I sound crazy.”

Alec is looking at him, a strange softness in his eye. “Magnus, if you ever want to talk about her…”

Magnus hesitates. He trusts Alec, but he doesn’t exactly know why.

“I don’t remember a lot about her,” he admits shakily. “I just… I remember she was sick. She was really, mentally unwell and… and sometimes I’m scared that I… I might turn out like her. That I might be sick like she was.” He gives a mirthless chuckle. “I know I’m sick already. People don’t have prescriptions if they’re healthy.”

“Magnus, you’re not…” Alec begins, shakes his head a little. “You’re not crazy, you just… You had something really traumatic happen when you were a kid and… I—I don’t know the details, but I know that… that losing your mom… It’s okay to need help after that.”

Magnus holds his gaze a moment, but he doesn’t find a trace of anything disingenuous. He decides then and there that Alexander Lightwood is honest by nature. His lies were a lie. In being dishonest to Magnus on their initial meeting, he was in turn being dishonest to his true nature.

“Thank you,” he utters, “for saying that.”

“Of course,” Alec says, seems a little hesitant suddenly. “That’s what friends do, and… and we’re friends, right?”

Magnus tilts his head, gives Alec a soft smile. “Yes,” he agrees, ensuring his voice is gentle because it feels important that Alec knows. “We are.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus reach the Lightwood's lodge. Magnus meets Alec's parents and grandparents with mixed reactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to my commenters on the last chapter: @royalelephant, @codenamepenguin, and @Vallier!
> 
> WARNINGS: bad parenting, racist old person talk

To say Alec is afraid might be an understatement.

A week with his family is not something he would wish upon anyone, let alone someone who has been so good to him, so understanding even when Alec himself knows how bad he has been. Magnus doesn’t deserve any of this. Alec doesn’t deserve to have him as a friend.

The things Jace said about Magnus when they first saw him in the club had stuck with him, the prejudice about his sexuality. It had fuelled their text-fights for weeks now. Neither of them are anywhere near backing down. Alec dreads to face him maybe more than he fears seeing his father for the first time since the conversion therapy threats were made.

If they can just pull this off—if they can fake being a real couple for just this week—then Robert might back off. He is just testing Alec, seeing how serious he is about this. Alec will show him. This is his life now, and his father needs to see that, even if Alec will never tell him to his face.

His actions will speak for him. Magnus will give him strength when he is without, his pride and his shamelessness will be at Alec’s side, shielding him from the judgement of his family. It is unfair of Alec to use him like that, but he knows he can’t do this without him.

It’s selfish. Alec hates himself for it.

“Alec?” Magnus’s voice cuts through his spiral of self-loathing, and he looks up to see Magnus waiting for him. “Are you coming?”

Alec stares beyond Magnus, to the lodge a little ways up the hill. It is wooden and massive and the roof is topped with snow. Icicle lights line the end of the roof. Alec knows how it looks in the dark, when the Christmas lights are lit and warmth shines through the windows. It would be beautiful if it weren’t so awful.

“Alec…?”

“Yeah,” says Alec, shaking his head to scatter his troubled thoughts. “Sorry. I’m coming.”

Magnus holds a hand out to make him stop, keeping him at the end of the drive for a moment. “Alec, you know it’s… it’s going to be okay. You know that, right? I’ll be at your side the entire time.”

Alec nods, exhales slow and steady. “Yeah, you’re right. Me too… for you, I mean.”

Magnus gives his shoulder a platonic squeeze, smiles reassuringly. As they make the walk up to the lodge, Alec tries desperately not to think about how beautiful Magnus is when he smiles. It isn’t something he can permit himself to think, even now. He may be out of the closet, but that had not been his decision. Besides, Magnus has made it clear that they are strictly friends.

The front door of the lodge opens as they approach and Alec freezes in his tracks when his father stalks out of the building. Magnus stops with him, glancing to Alec with a querying look, but says nothing. His father slows to a stop in front of them, clasping his hands behind his back as his gaze travels over them both.

“Alec,” says Robert, looking him up and down as if he’s taking in a stranger. Alec hates that, hates that his father thinks that he’s changed because of the revelation of his sexuality. His gaze turns to Magnus. He sniffs a sharp inhale. “Are you going to introduce me?”

Alec opens his mouth, but Magnus beats him to it. “I’m sure I can manage,” he chuckles easily, reaching a hand out. “Magnus Bane.”

Robert hesitates, almost as though he doesn’t wish to touch Magnus’s tanned, bejewelled hand. “Hi,” he mutters, finally accepting Magnus’s hand, shaking it hard. “Robert Lightwood.”

“A pleasure,” says Magnus, smiles and falls back to Alec’s side, an arm around his waist. “Alec here has been telling me all about you. I hear you’re quite an accomplished skier.”

Humming softly, Robert eyes Magnus as if he isn’t quite sure what to make of him. “Not so much nowadays… Although, I’m sure you’ll be anxious to get on the snow.”

“Of course.” Magnus looks around, teeth flashing in the midday sun when he smiles. Alec stubbornly does not allow his mind to linger on that smile. “Well, I’ll be sure not to keep us out here all day. Shall we?”

Robert blinks rapidly, nods once and gestures a hand for them to go inside. “You’re in your usual room,” he says to his son. Alec just nods. With any luck, he and Magnus will have single beds as Alec did.

Inside, the lodge is decorated extravagantly. Tinsel and fairy lights wrap the stair bannisters, and decorate the fireplace in the front room. Along in the dining room is a long table set up with cutlery and crockery and too many glasses. There is a candle centrepiece surrounded in pinecones and sprigs of mistletoe.

There is a Christmas tree in the corner, reaching high to the ceiling, a perfect, lush green wrapped in gold ribbon and dotted with red bows and baubles. A gold-robed angel with delicate satin wings and a china face sits on the peak.

“Wow,” utters Magnus, his eyes roaming the spacious rooms. “Big place.”

“Alec,” a voice says from the side.

Alec watches his mother approach. He can only imagine what Magnus is thinking. Maybe he is noting how similar they look; the same complexion and dark hair and hazel eyes. She has a hard look in her eyes now, however; a cold look.

“Mother,” Alec says, moving to hug her, but she keeps him at arm’s length with a detached pat on his shoulder like he’s a stranger she would rather not touch. Alec steps back, his eyes now as guarded as his mothers. “Fine. Hello.” He wraps an arm around Magnus’s waist, a little too forcefully. “This is Magnus; my boyfriend.”

“I guessed,” his mother says, looking Magnus up and down, warily almost. “Hello.”

“Hi,” says Magnus slowly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Alec watches the unbearably awkward exchange, watches his mother give them a stiff nod and walk away and part of him wants to yell at her. Another part wants to cry. He is so torn between grief and anger that it just ends up making him feel numb. His parents are treating him like a stranger.

“Alec,” Magnus says, pulls back from him just enough to look in his eyes. “That was… Are you okay?”

Forcing a smile that is definitely more tearful than joyful, Alec nods shortly. He doesn’t try to explain how this is why he hadn’t chosen to come out yet. He doesn’t dwell on how he still doesn’t feel ready for it, even now. He doesn’t have a choice. It isn’t fair that he didn’t get to choose. Magnus doesn’t need to hear that.

“I’m fine,” he says and the lie sticks in his throat. He hates lying. It is all he has done for the majority of his life. “We should—Oh, no, okay, here come my grandparents. I am so sorry for everything that’s about to happen.”

“Alec, sweetie!”

“Hi, Nana,” says Alec, forcing a smile as he lets his grandmother hug him, press a wet kiss to his cheek, accepting a firm handshake from his grandfather. “Uh, I’m sure mom and dad filled you in, so… I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Magnus.”

Alec’s grandfather is at least good enough to shake Magnus’s hand. His grandmother just looks at him curiously. “Where are you from then?”

Magnus gives her a tolerant smile. “I live in Brooklyn.”

“Oh, no, where are you _from_? You look very Asian.”

Alec pinches the bridge of his nose, casting Magnus an apologetic look. “Nana—”

“Oh, what, it’s a crime to want to know who you’re dating now?” says his grandmother, immediately defensive. “The lady from your father’s office is Chinese and she’s perfectly alright. My paperboy is a black girl now.”

“That’s great,” says Alec, swallows back his awkwardness. “Magnus isn’t Chinese.”

“He’s not from Japan, is he?”

“I was born in Indonesia,” Magnus says before she can start insulting the Japanese.

“Oh, I’ve been there. My late husband and I went on vacation in Bali. A very pretty place, but strange people. Very tribal. Lots of Muslims.”

Alec grits his teeth, knowing that Magnus is definitely not from Bali and his grandmother simply enjoys name-dropping all the exotic places her retirement money has taken her. He touches Magnus’s arm, desperate to give him some respite from his grandmother. “Well, we should unpack.”

“Alec, dear, are you dating a Muslim?”

Alec watches her steadily, determined to keep his voice calm. “Would it matter if I was?”

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive, Alec. You young people and your political correctness. I’m allowed to ask if he’s a Muslim.”

Alec bites the inside of his mouth, says nothing. He should tell her that casual racism is still bad, that just because she isn’t overtly racist, it doesn’t mean she isn’t racist at all. Just because she knows of the existence of one Chinese woman and one black kid, it doesn’t mean she’s in the clear. He should come to Magnus’s aid. He doesn’t. It shames him.

“I’m not Muslim,” says Magnus politely. “I… I don’t really have a religion.”

Alec can’t help but look at him, because he knows that isn’t really true. Magnus is an animist. He believes in spirits and souls and light, and everything he tells Alec about his religion is beautiful. It is simply easier to tell his grandparents nothing. Alec hates that Magnus feels the need to do that, but they both know it’s easier than the truth.

His grandmother hums, a little disapprovingly. “Well… okay then.”

Alec waits a second before he takes the handle of his suitcase. “Okay, well, uh, it’s good to see you. We’ll catch up more later, okay? Magnus and I have to unpack.”

“I expect to hear more later, Alec,” says his grandmother. “I want to know all about your new friend.”

Alec merely hums his agreement, leading Magnus away from his grandparents and hoping to god that they don’t run into anyone else on the way to their room. As Alec leads him upstairs, Magnus keeps looking to him like he wants to speak. He doesn’t. Alec is grateful for it.

As much as he appreciates Magnus’s words and his concern for Alec’s wellbeing—and he does appreciate it, more than he can ever express—he doesn’t want it right now. He doesn’t want that knowing look or that gentle touch, or even that almost magical sense of empathy. He just wants to get to their room without interruption.

Somehow, they manage it. Alec breathes a sigh of relief as he reaches the familiar door, and pushes it open, letting Magnus go in first before following, closing the door behind them. He can breathe again.

For about half a second.

Then he looks at the room.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Alec growls, discarding his suitcase in front of the closed door and walking to the end of the bed, staring down at it disapprovingly.

It was the only one in the room, which, honestly, they had been half expecting. Alec had a feeling that his father would do one of two things, 1) he would keep the single beds to prevent Alec and Magnus sleeping together, or 2) he would put them in a double or king-size bed so they didn’t have a choice but to sleep together. As it turns out, it is neither. It is a queen-size bed.

Magnus comes up beside him, folding his arms over his chest. “Tell me you weren’t planning on star-fishing.”

“There is no way we’re both fitting on that comfortably,” Alec says, grimaces as he walks around the side. “We’re gonna have to dog-pile if we want to stay on the mattress.”

“Oh, now you’re averse to lying on top of me? I’m wounded,” teases Magnus, placing a hand over his chest in mock hurt. He waves that same hand when Alec’s brow creases in anxiety. “I’m kidding, I’m sorry. I’m just kidding. Can’t you just ask for another room?”

“What, and give my dad an excuse to pick flaws in me all week? No thanks. Y’know, I bet he did this deliberately. Jace and Clary wouldn’t complain about something like this, they’d just sleep on top of each other. Maybe he expects you to sleep on the floor or something, God…”

“Well, we’ll stick a pillow barricade down then,” Magnus tilts his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “It’s not gay if we’re not touching.”

Alec huffs and kicks his shoes off. “Glad _you’re_ enjoying this.”

“Alec, it’s going to be fine. I’ve had your dick in my mouth. I think we can manage the risk of grazing our knees together in our sleep.”

“Please avoid talking about my penis for the remainder of this hell-week.”

Magnus smirks, says nothing further. He simply sets his bags down, wanders over to the wardrobe and starts unpacking. Alec watches him a moment, allows himself to smile a little as he sees the clothes Magnus has brought, embellished and extravagant

Alec wonders if he should take Magnus out somewhere just so his fashion sense isn’t wasted on his family all week. He doesn’t ask. There are more pressing things to be thinking about.

“I’m sorry about my grandmother,” Alec says finally. “She’s old.”

“I understand,” Magnus replies, looks at him strangely. “You know you don’t have to keep apologising for your family… You’re not them.”

Alec blinks hard, a soft furrow pinching his brow. That isn’t something he is used to hearing. In fact, it’s usually the opposite. It’s usually that family is all he has, that he would be nothing without them, that they should always be his number on priority. The way that Magnus distances Alec from being nothing but the Lightwood name feels surprisingly refreshing.

He doesn’t say that, however.

“Hey, Mags, look—”

“God, don’t call me that.”

Alec blinks, frowns and struggles to see where he went wrong. He is slightly terrified of fucking this up. “What?”

“Mags,” Magnus says, his face twisted in distaste. “Don’t. It’s weird.”

“Your dad calls you that all the time.”

“Yeah, my dad does it because he’s allowed to,” Magnus says with a light chuckle. “He gets a pass because giving me a nickname is his way of doing dad jokes. It’s exasperating, but it’s his God-given right to annoy me.” Alec nods, frowning, and Magnus’s eyes soften. “What were you going to say?”

“It’s nothing, I just…” Alec inhales deeply, steeling himself for vulnerability. “I’m really grateful to you for… for doing this. I know we’ve barely been here twenty minutes and my grandmother has already insulted you. My parents weren’t massively welcoming.”

“To either of us,” Magnus says, canting his head a little. “I’m sorry about that, Alec. Your mother…”

Alec shakes his head minutely, lifts a hand to stop him. “My point is… that we’ll be expected downstairs again really soon, and I don’t know if the rest of them will be like that or not,” he admits, gives a halfhearted shrug. “I love my siblings, but I don’t know if…”

He breaks off, suddenly and alarmingly close to tears. The breaths come slow and steady because he forces them to be so. _I don’t know if they still love me_. The insecurities sear into his mind like a brand. He tries to push them back, not wishing to burden Magnus with his fears. He has been fighting with Jace, ignoring Isabelle’s texts, not hearing a word from Max on all of this.

Magnus’s eyes narrow and he comes to stand in front of Alec. “Hey,” he says, takes one of Alec’s hands in both of his own, holds tightly. “I understand… It’s going to be okay.”

Alec doesn’t want to like the way Magnus holds him. Despite this, despite everything, he still didn’t choose to come out to anyone. He isn’t ready. He isn’t ready to feel about someone the way he feels about Magnus. It’s too much. It’s too fast.

Still, Magnus’s touch grounds him, settles the panic of his mind. He takes a breath, lets it out in a long, soft sigh. “Yeah,” he says, nods once and gently eases his hand free of Magnus’s grasp. He forces a light smile, though strained and mirthless. “Ready for round two?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec is terrified to see Isabelle for the first time since before his forced outing. He shows Magnus around the lodge and they make use of his favourite place: the underground swimming pool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @Nowherebloom, @PhoenixStar73, @Vallier, @jinxie86, and @June hodge for your comments on the last chapter!

When Alec sees his sister, he just freezes.

He and Magnus have unpacked their clothes and belongings into their small bedroom. Magnus touches up his eyeliner very briefly in the bathroom mirror before returning to Alec and coaxing him to breathe for just a moment before they leave the room to re-join his family.

It helps. Alec takes a moment under Magnus’s instruction, breathes with him for a good half minute. There’s something calming about Magnus then. Alec never thought he would be so relaxed when returning to the ground floor of his family’s lodge. That calmness evaporates like mist under the sun when he locks eyes with his sister.

Isabelle is wearing a low-cut white shirt and blue blazer, soft, grey jeans and black heels, her eyes darkly lined with flicks at the corners, her lips red and full. Dark hair falls lush and perfect down her shoulders. Her expression brightens a little when she sees him, her eyes catching the light a little differently and a soft curve altering her lips.

Alec shifts his shoulders when she walks to him, taking a deep and silent breath.

“Izzy,” Alec says, swallows hard. He doesn’t know what to say. They haven’t spoken since the club; Alec has been ignoring all of her frantic texts in fear that they were just more of what Jace had to offer. She might hate him now too. “Hi—”

Isabelle cuts him off with a crushing hug, throwing her arms around his shoulders. Alec stoops a little to avoid her having to lean up on tiptoes, embraces her in turn.

“I know you didn’t choose for it to come out like this,” says Isabelle in his ear, her words just for him, “but I am _so_ proud of you, Alec. You’re being so brave and I am right here, okay?” She holds him tighter. “I love you no matter what. You’re my big brother. I love you so much.”

Alec exhales shakily, buries his face against her shoulder and wills himself not to simply burst into tears. “I love you too,” he says, breathes in deep and allows her to remove herself from the hug. “Thank you.”

Isabelle smiles at him, a hint of sympathy there in her eyes, before turning to Magnus. She hugs him too, knocks the breath from him a little, pulls back to push a long lock of dark hair from her face with a perfectly manicured hand.

“Isabelle,” she introduces herself with a smile. “You can do with that what you will. I’ve had all the variations.”

Magnus nods, smiles. “Oh, Isabelle will do just fine. You should convince your brother to go by Alexander. Such beautiful names. It seems a shame to bastardise them in any way.”

“Oh, I like him,” says Isabelle with a chuckle. “Your makeup is flawless, by the way. After I got here, I spent hours making myself presentable again. How did you manage it in half an hour?”

“The beauty of being an art student: you get pretty handy with a pencil,” Magnus takes his eyeliner pencil from the back pocket of his jeans, shows Isabelle. “Never go anywhere without it.”

“A very good rule,” Isabelle says, smiles slyly as she glances to Alec. “How on earth did my brother manage to convince someone like you to date him?”

Magnus huffs softly. “I’m afraid he’s the one who took some convincing.” He looks to Alec with a smile, strokes a light touch to his arm. “I’ll have you know that your brother is very charming and incredibly handsome.”

“Alec,” a voice calls and Alec glances to see his father beckoning him over. His mother stands at her husband’s side. Alec assumes his grandparents are off bitching somewhere, or, at least, his grandmother is. “Don’t be so antisocial. Come here.”

Swallowing back the anger from his throat, Alec straightens his back, squares his shoulders, and approaches his parents. Halfway to them, he realises Magnus is following and he wants to insist that his fake-boyfriend stay with Isabelle. His eyes narrow in anxiety when he realises his sister accompanies them too.

He wants to tell them to leave him to it, but—he has to admit—he does appreciate their loyalty, their strength at his sides. It shames him to need them, but he does. They stand awkwardly for a few seconds. Robert eyes Magnus stonily, his set expression giving nothing away. Maryse clears her throat, smooths out her dress.

“Where are the others?” Alec asks if only to break the unbearable silence. “Jace and Max… Clary?”

“Oh, Jace has taken them to the training slopes before they tackle a run tomorrow,” Robert says. “Clary is not a… naturally gifted skier, I suppose, but she’s a likable girl.”

Alec notes the emphasis on her gender, works his jaw briefly to avoid gritting his teeth. His father is doing it deliberately, highlighting how infuriatingly _perfect_ Jace is compared to Alec. He takes a breath. “Haven’t really met her,” Alec admits. “Magnus knows her through school though.”

There is another silence, one of shock this time on his parent’s part. Alec’s heart sinks right down to his stomach when he realises that he has unwittingly pushed the attention onto Magnus. He had sworn to himself he wouldn’t do that on this vacation. He had promised to keep Magnus from bearing the hardships of his family’s judgement.

The silence is deafening. Alec’s mother breaks it.

“So,” Maryse says and Alec supresses a wince at her tone, “Magnus, you’re… you’re not enrolled at the New York University then?”

It’s the tone she uses when she is trying to be polite, but Alec knows that she would really rather do anything than have this conversation. He knows they will judge Magnus now even more harshly when they hear the truth from him. Magnus is an art student, a man of colour, bisexual everything they are not.

Magnus gives her a careful smile. “No, I’m studying at the Brooklyn Academy of Arts, the same as Clary. I’m in my senior year though. Sculpture mainly.”

Robert huffs and casts him a disapproving kind of look. “Well, Clary studying there is one thing, but surely your parents can’t be thrilled at your lack of academic success.”

Alec swallows hard, glances briefly to Magnus to gauge his reaction of glimpsing his father’s view of gender roles, as well as the mention of Magnus’s absent parents. His fake-boyfriend’s smile has become more forced now. “Well, my birth parents aren’t exactly in the picture anymore, so there’s no need to trouble myself with their opinion.”

Maryse narrows her eyes, at least a little sympathetic if not slightly confused. “Did you… fall out?”

She glances to her son and Alec startles to realise what she is concerned for. Maryse Lightwood is worried that Magnus’s parents don’t speak to him anymore because of his sexuality. She might even be worried that Alec believes the same of her. He does. He is also pretty sure Maryse doesn’t care about his fears.

“My birth father left before I was born,” says Magnus promptly, his head high and proud and Alec admires him more than he can express. “My mother is dead. My adoptive father is a lecturer at the academy.”

His admittance of parents—most notably the death of his mother—is met with wide eyes and a predictably shaky attempt at changing the conversation by Robert, something about Jace and Clary that Alec doesn’t pay attention to. He puts an arm to Magnus’s waist. He isn’t even trying to sell their act this time, he just wants to offer his friend some comfort.

Magnus casts him a grateful look, leaning into him slightly. For a moment, it is just them. The conversation has moved on and Alec isn’t listening. They might as well be in a bubble. Isabelle pops it when she comes to Magnus.

“Our parents like to supress problems and ignore them rather than acting like human beings and expressing sympathies,” she says, light fingers coming to touch Magnus’s arm. “I’m sorry about your parents; your mom especially. It can’t have been easy.”

Magnus regards her moment, blinking soft and slow when he realises she is being ingenuous. “Thank you, Isabelle.”

Robert clears his throat and Alec looks to him, standing a little straighter out of pure instinct. “I’m sure you want to get settled in so I’ll let you show your… friend… around the lodge.”

Alec blinks hard, fights back his shock at the term. His father knows. Everyone in their family should know by now; he imagines it was quite the topic of conversation while he was at university. Perhaps he was wrong. His father always said he thought too highly of himself. His life is of no importance as long as he continues to lack any meaningful accomplishments that benefit the family.

Dismissing the memory of his father’s many judgemental words from his mind, Alec simply nods. “Yes, father, I’ll… I’ll see you both at dinner.”

He receives no replies and simply beckons Magnus to follow him. They don’t speak of the conversation with Alec’s parents. Magnus doesn’t try to make Alec talk. Sometimes Alec likes to pretend uncomfortable things simply never happened. He is unfortunately like his parents that way.

The lodge is too big, too many rooms and hallways, and Alec can tell that Magnus isn’t used to such a sizable living space. He exhales in wonder when he sees the kitchen.

“Who are all these people?” he asks as he glances around the room.

Alec looks to him. “Cooks,” he says simply, waving one of them away when they come to query on whether they want anything. “No, thanks, we’re fine. I’m just showing him around the lodge.”

As the cook ducks their head in acceptance and wanders away, Magnus turns and raises a brow at Alec. “Your parents hire… _staff_ for your vacations?” Alec nods, a furrowed pinch to his brow, struggling to see Magnus’s point. “Well, that’s…” He hesitates, glances to Alec. “Have they always done that?”

Alec nods. “Yeah, ever since I was a kid, we’ve just had… well, we’ve had staff doing everything for us for as long as I can remember.” He swallows hard, realising suddenly exactly how that sounds when Magnus prompts him to say it aloud. “Oh…”

“What?” Magnus asks gently.

“I’m a privileged asshole, aren’t I?”

Magnus shakes his head, his eyes narrowed softly. “No, Alec. You’re halfway to one of those things.”

Alec frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you have aspects of privilege. You’re rich and white and male,” says Magnus simply, “ _but_ you’re also gay and you clearly have a lot of family issues.” He tilts his head a little. “Half privileged and not at all an asshole… You’re a good person, Alec.”

Alec huffs, glances away. “Well, thanks…” He returns his gaze back to the kitchen staff, sniffs disapprovingly and turns away. “Let’s go. I want to show you the pool. It’s the best place in the lodge just because no one’s ever there.”

Magnus’s eyes light up. “How about we make use of it?”

“You want to go for a swim?”

“Why not?” Magnus says with a shrug. “If you’re up for it.”

Anxious not to sound too eager, Alec feigns a moment of thought. There is nothing to think about. Magnus is a handsome man; Alec allows himself to think that without getting too deep into his feelings simply because it is indisputable. Magnus is all toned muscles and dark skin and eyes that glow gold and gorgeous. Seeing him clothed is pleasure enough. Seeing him in swimwear… Alec might lose his mind.

“Sure,” he manages to say somewhat calmly.

They change separately; Alec takes the bathroom and lets Magnus have the bedroom. He pulls on his trunks in place of his boxers, tugs his jeans back on and lightly raps his knuckles against the door. Magnus calls his readiness and they leave the room with towels tucked under their arms.

His clothes are the same, but Alec knows that, underneath his black skinny jeans, he has some form of swimwear on. As they make their way down several sets of stairs, Alec’s imagination feeds him types and colours and patterns that Magnus might favour. Given Magnus’s fashion taste, it should be nothing sort of flamboyant but oddly fitting.

The pool is dark and untouched when they enter, a pitch-black room, and Magnus hesitates at the open door. Alec frowns.

“What’s up?” he asks, pauses a moment when Magnus just looks at him. “Are you… Magnus, you’re not afraid of the dark… are you?”

Magnus purses his lips a little. “Maybe I have a hint of nyctophobia… It’s more common than you might believe.”

Alec gives him a small smile. “Well, there’s an easy way to fix that.”

Reaching to the wall, he finds and flicks the switches all in turn, watching the overhead lights, the wall lights, the pool lights all burst to life. The ones upon the walls are tall and blue, reaching from floor to ceiling and matching the rich shade of the illuminated swimming pool.

“Better?” Alec asks, blinks when Magnus leans over and flicks one of the switches off.

The overhead lights go out, darkening the room a little, but it is still handsomely brightened by the wall and pool lights. Alec swallows hard. It feels… _closer_ somehow, more intimate without such stark lighting glaring down from above. It’s almost beautiful.

Magnus looks to him. “Okay?”

Alec nods, fights to calm himself. “Yeah.”

“Wonderful.”

Magnus shrugs the jacket from his shoulders and begins unbuttoning his shirt, toeing his shoes off in the process. Alec hastily turns his back, leaning to unlace his shoes, kicking them off to the side, throwing his socks with them before standing upright again to strip his t-shirt up over his head.

“The pool’s good to jump in, right?”

Alec nods distractedly, turning as he unbuttons his jeans. “Yeah, go for it.”

Lifting his head, his hands falter on pulling down his jeans as he watches Magnus launch himself into the pool, a flash of blue and pink swimming trunks and dark skin disappearing into the shimmering blue. Alec tugs his jeans off in a hurry, kicks them back with the rest of his clothes.

Magnus surfaces again, dark hair in his eyes pushed back with a hand still adorned with rings. He hadn’t taken any of his jewellery off, chains still glint around his throat. Alec is pretty sure his swimming trunks are dotted with flamingos. Something about that is so plainly _Magnus_ that Alec can’t help but smile.

The makeup around his eyes is apparently waterproof, golden eyes lined dark and perfect as they roam up and down Alec’s body. Shifting a little, Alec avoids Magnus’s wandering eyes, self-conscious suddenly under the searching gaze.

“My, my…” Magnus says in slow and shameless sensuality.

“Don’t turn your sarcasm on me,” Alec mutters with a hint of a smirk, wandering to the edge of the pool and sitting so his legs dangle in the water.

“Nothing sarcastic about it,” Magnus says, swimming over to rest his forearms atop the edge of the pool. His feet kick absently in the deep water. “You work out?”

Alec chuckles softly. “Yeah. Uni students get special deals at the gym and my brother makes me go with him a lot, so…” He trails, thinking now of Jace. They haven’t done a workout together in weeks. They haven’t done anything together since Jace forcibly outed him to their father.

Magnus rests his chin upon his folded arms, apparently sensing Alec’s change in mood. “Well, you look good,” he says with a small smile.

Alec huffs in soft amusement, not really feeling like laughing, but anxious to make Magnus feel comfortable. “Thanks.”

He elects to forget about it all for a minute; to push Jace and his father and his grandmother from his mind. Isabelle says she still loves him. His mother has at least _some_ concerns about Alec’s feelings. Even Clary had said they were cute together back at the café. The women in his family are clearing more forgiving than the men.

Alec pushes himself into the water, stretches out absently. Magnus shifts a little to give him some space, smiles when Alec glances to him. Blue lighting ripples across his dark skin, catches the gold of his eyes and the necklaces dangling over his chest. He is so beautiful.

“Well, hello,” says Magnus, smiles.

“Why’d you keep your jewellery on?” Alec asks with a softly tilted head.

Magnus shrugs. “Why not?”

Alec doesn’t have an argument for that. He just huffs softly, shakes his head and kicks off from the wall.

He and Magnus spend hours in the pool. They swim absent laps, furious races, splash one another with playful swipes of water. Alec laughs, loud and unchecked, and Magnus chuckles with him. His eyes close and scrunch and his teeth flash pure and white. Alec forgets about his family, about his insecurities, even about the lodge above them.

He focuses on nothing but the sound of Magnus’s laughter. It’s more pleasing to his ear than anything he has ever heard. The lights are beautiful and blue, bouncing from the pool water and casting shimmering patterns across the walls, the ceiling, Magnus’s tan skin.

For this moment, the bright and beautiful few hours in the water with Magnus, Alec is completely and utterly happy.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus go to their first dinner of the week. Alec struggles with his growing feelings towards Magnus and the avoidance of his family. An unexpected conversation takes place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @June hodge, @Luiza, @codenamepenguin, @Vallier, @jinxie86, and @royalelephant for your comments on the last chapter! I really appreciate all the support and investment!

Before they even get to dinner, Alec knows it will be awful.

He and Magnus reluctantly leave the pool, hurrying upstairs with towels around their shoulders and bundled clothes under their arms. Alec had warned him that they would get tuts and judgement if anyone saw them half-naked in the lodge. Magnus had countered that it would be better if no one saw them.

Hence, the hasty tiptoeing through the lodge.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Alec keeps saying. “We should’ve put clothes on.”

“Shh,” Magnus hushes through a fit of giggles as Alec peers down the hallway to their room. “Is the coast clear?”

Alec hums. “Seems to be.”

They hurry down the hall and slip into their room. Magnus is still laughing, likening Alec to a secret agent. Alec grins at him, the smile sliding from his face as he realises the time.

“Shit, we barely have half an hour before we’ll be expected for dinner.”

It is the dread of the first day. Alec is usually seated beside Jace. He expects this time that he will be pushed to the opposite end of the table however, far away from his father and closer to his mother’s side. He wonders where Magnus will be.

“Dinner’s going to be bad, right?” Magnus guesses, purses his lips in a hint of anxiety.

Alec sighs softly. “Dinner could go one of two ways. Depends on the location. Location one is the dining table in the main room. Worst option because we’re all crowded together on one table and at least one of us will be sat next to someone who now hates me. Location two is the mess hall. It’s where we usually have the more informal meals. Best option because it means we get be as far away from everyone as we can get.”

Magnus is looking at him strangely. “Alec, I don’t believe your family hate you.”

Quiet for a moment, Alec wonders whether or not that’s true. “You think my dad doesn’t hate me… seriously?”

“I…” Magnus begins, sighs softly. “I don’t think the majority of your family hates you… Have you talked to your brother since he outed you? Face-to-face I mean.”

Alec shakes his head, glances away. “We should get dressed,” he mutters, desperate to change the topic.

Magnus clearly senses how uncomfortable he is with this conversation. “I’ll take the bathroom this time if that’s okay,” he says. “I want to do my makeup.”

“Why? It’s still there.”

Magnus chuckles lightly. “It’s dinner, Alexander. I need a little more…” he gestures vaguely to his eyes “… sparkle.”

Alec nods absently like he understands what Magnus is talking about. He knows Isabelle likes makeup, but he always assumed it was to draw the attention of potential dates. What he doesn’t understand is why Magnus is bothering with making himself pretty. It’s not like it will impress his parents. If anything, they’ll mislike Alec’s fake-boyfriend even more.

Magnus picks out some clothes from the wardrobe, hums softly as he makes his decisions. Alec shakes out the clothes he shed at the pool. When he glances back to Magnus, he sees a jacket of army green complete with bronze buttons and chains, a dark, high-collared shirt, and black jeans. Excitement tugs at his stomach and he forces it back, takes a breath to focus.

Magnus grabs a small bag, presumably for his makeup, and disappears into the bathroom. Once there is a closed door between them, Alec slips out of his swimming trunks. He tugs on a pair of boxers before taking his swimwear to hang over the radiator, donning the rest of his clothes without much thought. He smells like chlorine, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t see a point in changing for dinner.

Despite all their expectations, his parents were never too caught up on attire.

“Ready when you are!” he calls to Magnus.

“Patience, Alexander,” is all he gets in reply, and he smiles absently to himself.

He walks to the closet, opens the door to admire Magnus’s clothes. There are outfits there for at least every day of the week. Alec reaches out to run his fingers down the arm of one of the jackets, some kind of velvet in a deep and rich burgundy. His attention moves to a black jacket with gold metalwork upon the shoulders, further to one in black and red.

It’s easy to imagine Magnus in these clothes.

The bathroom door opens with a soft click of the door handle and Alec hastily closes the wardrobe door, turns and catches his breath. Magnus is fixing one of his cartilage piercings, a silver spider’s web. His shirt is collared high up his neck, no necklaces that Alec can see, and his jacket is fastened with bronze buttons. There are bronze studs connected with chains in short lines across his shoulders.

“Sorry, am I taking up too much wardrobe space?” Magnus asks, pushing a stray lock of his hair back into place. “I can take some things out if you need room.”

“No, I’m good,” says Alec. “I have like… maybe three outfits? I only hang up my coats, and they’re in there, so it’s fine.” He swallows hard, lets his eyes roam Magnus’s body, lingers on a khaki green and bronze blend of eyeshadow above dark eyeliner. “You… You look nice. What’s with the army coat?”

“Oh, that’s simple,” says Magnus, clearing his throat and bringing a dramatic light to his eyes. “It’s time for war.”

Alec startles a brief laugh. “Time for war?”

“The way you’ve been describing this dinner,” Magnus begins, his familiar self coming back to gold irises, “it sounds as though we’re going to battle, so I thought I would dress for the occasion.”

Huffing softly, Alec quirks him a half-sheepish smile. “Well, you certainly know how to do that.”

Magnus grins, sobers suddenly and lifts his head, offers Alec his arm like some Victorian aristocrat with his dance partner. “So, shall we?”

Alec shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re an asshole.”

“Come now, Alexander,” Magnus scolds playfully, lowers his arm. Alec relaxes a moment, his eyes widening again when Magnus offers his hand. “Let’s be a little less formal, yes? One must accompany their boyfriend to dinner.”

A slow breath exhales from Alec’s lips and he places his hand heavily into Magnus’s own. “I hate you,” he utters.

“Oh, don’t be silly, you love me,” Magnus teases, tugs his hand to lead him out of their room.

Alec thinks upon that as he and Magnus walk downstairs. That has become almost a _thing_ with them. The hate/love exchange. Alec wonders how many times it has happened now. He never means it, when he says he hates Magnus. He doesn’t. He hopes it’s okay that he teases sometimes. Magnus doesn’t seem to mind anyway.

The way their hands fit together is strange simply because it feels so perfect, like they were meant for this. Magnus looks back at him, smiles. Alec wonders if he feels it too.

The dining room is vacant when they get to the ground floor and Alec has to fight back a smile. He leads Magnus now, pulls him down the hallway into the mess hall, which is really just four smaller tables in a room directly adjacent to the kitchen. Each table has two chairs on either side, enough to fit four people.

One of them is apparently an adults table: his parents and grandparents sat together. Clary and Jace sit on another with Max. Isabelle isn’t there yet. Jace’s attention shifts from his girlfriend to Alec as they enter. His gaze flicks to their joined hands and his jaw clenches, returning to his conversation with Clary as quickly as he left it.

Alec ignores that familiar sinking feeling in his chest. He is used to it by now. He gets it when he knows he has disappointed someone.

The next thing he ignores is the rest of the family noticing their arrival. Alec takes a breath and picks the table closest to them, closest to the exit. He pulls a chair out, leads Magnus to it by their joined hands.

“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus says as he takes his seat, squeezing his hand a little before Alec releases it to sit beside him.

It’s a couple more minutes before Isabelle enters. Like Magnus, she has changed her outfit for the evening, now in a fitted red dress. Her eyes roam the tables, weighing her options. She meets Alec eye and he shakes his head minutely. As much as he appreciates her being on his side for all of this, he doesn’t want her to face the scrutiny of sharing their table.

They have a silent kind of argument with only a few subtle looks and Isabelle finally gives in. As she passes their table, she drops a hand to Alec’s shoulder, presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

“Love you,” she mutters.

“Love you too, Izzy,” Alec replies in a whisper, watching her walk away and take the seat opposite Clary.

Almost the second Isabelle takes her seat, a hoard of waiters enter with their their food: marinated chicken breast, new potatoes and baked tomatoes. Magnus gets the same, but minus the chicken and with a salad, which is really just a few pieces of lettuce and halved cherry tomatoes.

Robert claps his hands together to get their attention. “Join me in prayer.”

Alec instinctively ducks his head, interlaces his fingers to join his hands together upon the table. Remembering suddenly, he risks a glance to Magnus. He hasn’t clasped his hands, but he is waiting and his head is bowed like the others even though he has no belief in God.

“You don’t have to,” whispers Alec, but Magnus simply shakes his head.

“It’s fine.”

The room is quiet aside from Alec’s father leading them in prayer. He talks about how grateful he is to have them all here, talks about how family is more important than anything, thanks God that they are all happy and healthy and together.

Alec thinks of his own prayer. It’s not as general as his father’s and it might be a little selfish, but it doesn’t matter. No one can know his mind. He prays for Magnus to be at least somewhat happy on this vacation. He prays that his family doesn’t give him too hard a time. He prays for himself not to screw this up again. Maybe it’s not something worth praying for, but Alec needs it right now. He needs strength.

When his father finishes saying grace, the room utters a collective “Amen” and they start eating. Alec glances to Magnus’s plate, eyes roaming the sad looking scraps of lettuce. In all honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if his dad had just told the cooks to pick out the chicken from a plate and replace it with a few leaves of lettuce.

“Hey, you... you don’t have to eat that,” says Alec.

Magnus just gives him a wan smile, unreadable. “It’s kind of you to have them take the meat out for me.”

“Magnus—”

“It’s fine, Alexander.”

“It’s demeaning.”

The look Magnus gives him then is almost chiding, but playfully so. “I think we should count ourselves lucky that they accommodated for my eating habits at all.”

The dinner is short and not particularly vocal. Magnus eats without complaint or comment regarding the food. Still, he gives Alec all his attention, laughs at his stories. Alec keeps it happy. He keeps all his tales pretty and PC, just purely _good_ moments from previous vacations, how he and his siblings used to sneak out to this amazing pizza place down the hill instead of coming for dinner, how heated things got during their annual snowball fights, how Alec’s grandfather always beat him at chess.

The kitchen staff come to take their plates when they’re done. The jet lag is setting in and Alec elects not to partake in dessert. Magnus passes on it too and they exit the mess hall side by side, planning on heading upstairs and getting an early night.

Footsteps clack after them and Alec turns, half expecting to see his mother.

“Alec,” Clary greets as she hurries up to him. She lifts a nervous hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hey, can we…” she begins, bites her lower lip. “Can we talk?”

Alec squints at her a minute, nods his acceptance and stands, gently touches Magnus’s shoulder. “You remember where the room is, yeah?”

Magnus nods, utters a soft confirmation. He walks to the stairs, glances back to Alec briefly, as if to ensure he’s alright. Alec gives him a tiny nod, watches Magnus climb the stairs and disappear from sight. He just wants Magnus to know that it’s okay. He’s okay.

Taking a silent breath, Alec follows Clary into the front room. It is deserted. Flames crackle in the fireplace. Jace’s girlfriend stops near the window, an anxious hand combing back escaped locks of her loosely tied hair. Alec crosses his arms over his chest simply because he doesn’t know what else to do with them.

“Alec, I know Jace has been avoiding you, and I feel like you deserve to know what’s been going on with him,” Clary says, swallows hard. Alec doesn’t allow his expression to change despite his surprise that she would just launch straight in like that. “Jace isn’t like your dad, he’s not… he’s not homophobic. He’s fine with you being gay; that isn’t why he’s been acting like he has.”

Now, Alec can’t help the look that crosses his face. “What, he talks to you about that shit?”

Clary has the tolerance not to full-on scowl at him. “Alec, he’s just angry because you never told him. When he saw you with Magnus… he was just really confused. You used to tell each other everything and I think he feels kind of… kind of cheated that you didn’t trust him.”

“I didn’t even know I was—” Alec begins heatedly, cuts himself off with a forcibly steady inhale. “I didn’t know I was gay… or maybe I did, I don’t… I didn’t want to believe it. I certainly didn’t want anyone to know because I knew that my dad would hate me and I was worried that Jace would too. Y’know, I guess I was right.”

Clary shakes her head, grabs his arm when he huffs and tries to turn away. “Alec, Jace doesn’t hate you!”

“If you’d seen our texts, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“I _have_ seen your texts,” Clary counters, “and I know how it must sound to you because Jace is… let’s be honest, Jace isn’t always great with words.” She shrugs softly, glances away. “I think it’s partly my fault. He asked me about Magnus and I told him… well, almost everything I know.”

Alec frowns. “What, so… so Jace doesn’t care if I’m gay, he just doesn’t like that it’s Magnus I’m dating?”

Clary nods softly. “He’s just scared for you,” she says. “He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Why would he be worried about me getting hurt…?” Alec trails a little, blinking quick and sudden as he considers what Clary’s words could mean. “Wait, what did you tell him about Magnus?”

Clary hesitates, anxiety rounding her eyes. “Basically… everything I know? About his past relationships and his medication…” She shrugs. “Jace hears what he wants to hear… and what he heard is that Magnus has dated a lot of people and he gets… he gets these attacks sometimes, these panic attacks, and Jace kind of just took that as him being unstable.”

Alec shakes his head. “No, that’s not… that’s not Magnus’s fault. He’s not dangerous.”

“I know that, Alec, I’ve seen how he gets when he gets triggered,” Clary admits, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Jace just… he doesn’t understand Magnus. I think if he got to know him then he’d realise that Magnus is really good for you.” She tilts her head a little. “I think you’re good for him too.”

That startles him a little. He knows the effect that Magnus has on him; he knows he’s smiling more and he feels lighter, like the weight of his responsibilities are somehow eased, if only by a little. He never imagined that anyone had seen a difference in Magnus. Maybe it is because no one here actually knows Magnus. Alec forgets that Clary is his friend too.

“What’d you mean?” Alec dares to ask, fighting to keep his voice light and nonchalant. “He’s way above my league.”

“He’s happier with you,” Clary says. “Before, he used to smile all the time when people were watching. When they weren’t, he just seemed… sad.” She shrugs a little. “He isn’t like that with you. I watched him a little at dinner and he still seemed content even when you weren’t looking at him.”

Alec thinks on that for the rest of the night. He ponders it when Clary pats his arm and bids him farewell. It dwells in his thoughts when he meets Magnus back in their bedroom. The words echo his mind when he steps into the shower that night. Honestly, even when Magnus was mad at him, Alec hadn’t thought him unhappy.

It occurs to him that perhaps he just doesn’t know Magnus all that well.

He plans to get to know him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus experience their first morning in the lodge. Isabelle joins them for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments: @Verunka, @Vallier, @royalelephant, @codenamepenguin, and @MagnusBaneIsEverithing!
> 
> I apparently invoked a lot of strong feelings in the last chapter, but, whatever your thoughts, I really enjoyed reading your comments! I'm really happy people are so invested in this fic and I hope I can write up to your expectations!

When Alec wakes, for a moment he forgets where he is.

The memories surface slowly, the endless journey, the awkward relatives, the pool, the dinner. As soon as they set up their little pillow barricade and he got to lie down somewhat comfortably, he was out. He didn’t even have the courtesy to check if Magnus was okay. Jetlag was a bitch.

There is a sound nearby like a pencil at work, and Alec’s brow furrows softly, opening his eyes to a white ceiling. It keeps going. Strange; Alec had half thought it was part of his dream. Now, as he lifts a hand to his head, running absent fingers through his hair, the scratching noise stops.

He pushes a hand against the mattress, propped halfway upright on one elbow, and immediately locks eyes with Magnus. The art student sits cross-legged on the end of his side of the bed, carefully behind the pillow-barricade they had constructed last night. His journal sits open in his lap, a stubbed pencil poised between his slackening fingers.

“What’re you doing?” Alec asks, frowning softly and propping himself a little further up, leaning back against the headboard.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I... I realise how creepy that must be,” Magnus apologises, closing his journal and casting Alec a sheepish look. It was such a rare expression to see on his face. “I was drawing you... I thought that, since you were okay with me doing your side profile on the plane, you might be okay with me drawing you whenever. That was presumptuous of me.”

“No,” says Alec, keeping his voice as gentle as he can, needing Magnus to know that it’s okay. “It’s fine. I don’t mind, really. I mean it’s... it’s for your portfolio, right?”

Magnus glances up at him in surprise. “Wait, you’re really okay with me using them for school?”

Alec frowns, nods. “Yeah, of course, I said you could. If you still wanted to, I’d be fine with that.”

Magnus breathes out slowly, his expression full of gratitude. “Thank you, Alexander. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably draw someone else,” Alec says, only half teasing.

Magnus hums, clearly understanding his meaning. “Well, I’m not sure about that...” Alec frowns, ready to challenge him, but Magnus continues before he can utter a word. “You’re in for a lot of stillness for the next few days. Readily signing yourself up to model for me like that.”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything about doing any fancy poses,” Alec protests.

“Relax, I’m kidding.” Alec gives him a firm look and Magnus breaks into an easy smile. “Well, mostly kidding. You’ll at least be staying still a few times for me.”

Alec huffs and reluctantly heaves himself out of bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress and raking a hand through his hair to smooth out the knots. Magnus is watching him—staring at him might be more accurate—and Alec suddenly regrets his sleepwear choice of a tight white vest and boxers.

He usually just sleeps in his boxers, but with Magnus here it doesn’t seem appropriate. His Eventual decision is barely appropriate either, but he doesn’t actually _own_ any pyjamas as such, so there were little other options for him. Magnus himself is in an unfairly low-cut, dark vest shirt and some trousers that were like cuffed, plaid leggings.

“How do you already have eyeliner on?”

Magnus chuckles wryly. “Have you ever seen me without it?”

Alec thinks a moment, frowns softly. “No… Why is that? You know you don’t have to do that with me, right? You can relax.”

“Oh, Alexander, it’s not about impressing people,” says Magnus with a soft chuckle. “A tiger has stripes. I have eyeliner. It’s the natural order.”

Alec hums and pushes himself up. He goes to the chair he threw his jeans over last night and pulls them on, tugs them up over his hips, zips and buttons them up. Magnus peruses the wardrobe, casting Alec absent looks over his shoulder.

“Are you wearing the same thing you did yesterday?”

“Yes,” Alec says. “Just for breakfast. We’ll be skiing today, so I’ll change after we eat.”

Magnus seems to accept that and picks out his clothes for breakfast, a high collared red shirt and black jeans, and goes to the bathroom to change. As the door closes, Alec looks absently to the journal Magnus has left on the bed, closed now and sealed with a bronze-gold buckle.

For a moment, he thinks about opening it, looking through it. Magnus has been drawing him after all. Surely Alec is within his right to look at drawings of himself. He pauses halfway to reaching for it. He and Magnus haven’t know one another that long, not long enough that Alec can just go through his things without asking.

It feels too personal.

Magnus exits the bathroom fastening necklaces around his throat, letting them hang over his chest. His eyes flit down to his journal, wandering over and taking it in both hands. There is a strange look on his face. His eyes are soft and sad, distant in a way that Alec remembers seeing on him a few times before, though he can’t figure out when.

Magnus blinks and seems to come back to himself, lifting his gaze to Alec. “Sorry… are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Alec says, shakes his head when Magnus goes to place his journal in the drawer of the bedside table. “Wait, how about you bring it with you…? If it’s alright, I was hoping to look through it at breakfast.”

Magnus hesitates, but picks up his journal and tucks it under his arm as he follows Alec out of their room. Alec ponders on that hesitation as they make their way downstairs.

There is something about the journal that brings something out in Magnus, something sad and lost. Alec wonders what the significance of it is. Maybe his father gave it to him. Alec knows how close they are; Magnus must miss him.

They get to breakfast in time to pass Alec’s parents in the hallway. Alec catches his mother looking at him, but she glances away when he opens his mouth to speak. That may be for the best. He doesn’t know what he wants to say to her.

“Alec,” his father greets stonily. “Cutting it a little fine this morning, aren’t we? We’re hoping to be on the slopes by ten.”

Alec nods. “Yes, father. We’ll be there. I just… jetlag.”

Robert hums and gives Magnus a brief and disapproving look. “Are you wearing that?”

Magnus tilts his head a little. “Yes, although I will have a jacket and trousers for the slopes… and my boots, obviously.”

Sniffing like Magnus’s very words have caused some unpleasant smell, Robert turns and leaves without another word. Alec tries not to think too much about it, watching his parents walk away for a few seconds before he turns and leads Magnus into the mess hall.

Jace, Clary and Isabelle sit on a table near the door. Alec ignores them. Apparently, Isabelle is the only one who isn’t working against him. Deep down, he thinks that Clary hadn’t meant to hurt Magnus’s reputation with Jace. She is just reckless and in love.

Straight people apparently lose their ability to have coherent thoughts when they’re in love.

Breakfast is set out in buffet-style along the far wall; jugs of juice and milk and water, towers of empty glasses and clusters of white, china mugs, a large bowl of yogurt and cups of chopped fruit, stacks of buttermilk pancakes and loaves of bread ready for the conveyor toaster sat at the end of the table beside a large coffee machine.

As Alec looks at it now, he sees it is a _lot_. It is too much for ten people.

Magnus glances to him, but says nothing. They don’t need to go through this again. Alec knows what he is and what he has, and he knows that Magnus has never had anything like this before. Half of him feels guilty for living in such richness and splendour. The other half wants to show Magnus more of this life, to treat him how he deserves to be treated.

He knows that Magnus isn’t poor. Ragnor was an accomplished artist in his day and he has acquired enough wealth to keep him and his son comfortable. They don’t sully it on holiday homes and needlessness, however. Maybe Alec just wants to spoil him a little.

They take their breakfasts—Alec with a stack of pancakes and Magnus with fruit and yogurt—and grab their coffees—Alec with black and Magnus with a latte—and retire to an empty table.

Magnus undoes the buckle and turns the front cover over, flicking past a page and setting it on the table. Alec doesn’t question him, but it doesn’t stop his mind from filling with queries. Maybe it’s just an art thing. He vaguely remembers Jace jabbering something about how Clary never uses the first page of a sketchbook.

Leaning forward, Alec chews thoughtfully on a mouthful of pancake, swallowing hard when he sees that the journal _starts_ with sketches of him. He hadn’t posed for this. It isn’t the one Magnus had done on the plane or in their room.

“Did you do this from memory?” Alec asks.

Magnus’s expression shifts softly in Alec’s peripheral and he looks to see a soft pout on his lips. “Yes, you just…you never smile, but you have such fascinating eyes… I’m sorry if that’s weird.”

“Magnus,” Alec utters and flicks to the next page. “These are amazing.” He touches absent fingertips to the sketches. “You’re so talented.”

Magnus smiles almost shyly, watching Alec’s fingers skim across the page. “More with a chisel than with a pencil I’ve been told.”

“I haven’t seen your sculptures,” says Alec, glancing to him, “so I wouldn’t know, but I know good art when I see it. Jace has swooned about Clary’s enough. He likes posing for her, but yours...” He huffs softly as he turns to the double spread pages of himself, his side profile on the plane, his slack face and his chest bare and arms sprawled above creased blankets of their bed. “Yours are so natural.”

Magnus hums softly. “I always thought it was a little pretentious to have someone pose for you. I want to capture life as it is... Perfect doesn’t come from different positions, it comes from finding the right subject.” He taps the page of Alec’s sleeping form. “And you are perfect even when unconscious.”

Alec feels the blush creep up to his cheeks, clearing his throat softly and rubbing a hand to the nape of his neck. A shadow falls over their table and Alec hastily closes Magnus’s journal, glancing up, but it’s only Isabelle.

“Sorry for the interruption,” she says, sitting herself opposite them, sipping a glass of juice and setting her plate down. “You guys are way more chill than anyone else here. Jace and Clary keep arguing about whether or not skiing is a rich people sport or not and I am honestly sick of being around them.”

Alec frowns, knows he has to be careful, but still speaking his truth. “It’s… not?”

“Yeah, that’s Clary’s argument, and also my opinion, but Jace is convinced that only rich people can afford to buy all the gear and to go places with snow. He’s also completely sure that dad is right when he talks about boarders being hooligans.”

“I’m sorry, what?” asks Magnus, the pinch to his brow halfway amused.

“She’s not kidding,” says Alec, huffing softly. “My dad’s a traditional guy. While it’s stereotypical as hell, he’s firmly convinced that skiing is for the rich and snowboarders should be shot.”

Magnus chuckles awkwardly. “Guess this isn’t the best time to tell him I’m a boarder then?”

Isabelle almost chokes on her bacon and Alec quirks a soft smile when she leans in close. “You’re a snowboarder, are you serious?” She glances to Alec. “Subjecting him to our borderline homophobic parents is one thing, but bringing a boarder on a skiing trip? Alec, do you _want_ dad to kill him?”

“Dad’s not going to kill him,” says Alec, turns to Magnus to clarify. “He’s not going to kill you.”

“Alec, if it would be easier for me to ski—”

“Did you bring skis?”

Magnus huffs. “I can always rent them. Maybe we should’ve stuck to the dumb cover story after all.”

“Magnus, if you seriously think anyone would believe you’re majoring in corporate law—”

Isabelle waved a hand to cut her brother off. “Wait, wait, you’re telling me you invented some elaborate cover story and then didn’t use it? You could’ve been like spies all weekend!”

“Yeah, but no one would have believed a word of it,” Alec says with a shrug. “It’d be too complicated to keep up. I’m fed up of lying.”

Isabelle hums, a little sad suddenly. “Can’t be fun,” she says. “Although, you have been taking our parent’s shit for the last month or two, so you’re kinda drawing the attention from the rest of us. I wish it didn’t have to be like that, but thanks for making such a massive scandal.”

Alec scoffs softly. “What the hell have you done that’s so bad?”

“Well, mom’s so focused on you being gay that she hasn’t commented on my clothes the entire time I’ve been here,” says Isabelle with a soft shrug. “Usually she would be dragging me about showing too much skin by this point in the week, so I assume I can thank you for the fact that she’s not.”

Alec purses his lips unhappily. “Are mom and dad bad people?”

Isabelle chuckles weakly. “You’re only wondering this now?”

Alec’s heart sinks and he glances to Magnus. His fake-boyfriend just looks at him, his eyes round and sad and Alec can’t help his brows dropping in concern. Maryse and Robert Lightwood had their faults, of course, and their expectations of their children were overwhelmingly high at times, but Alec had never hated them. He doesn’t hate them now.

Before now, Alec had taken everything they did as caring too much, as simply wanting the best for their children. Part of him still thinks that, but it is slowly being drowned out by Isabelle’s words sinking it. From the way she speaks, their mother has clearly been disapproving of Isabelle’s attire for a while now.

Maybe his parents _do_ care too much, but Alec realises now that it is a stifling overprotectiveness. It is control they desire, and Alec doesn’t know if he can adhere to their picture-perfect world. He doesn’t fit anymore.

He is _different_ and different is imperfect.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus convinces Alec to bail on the family trail so they can sneak off together to a slope. Back at the lodge afterwards, Alec suggests an alternative for tonight's dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to @Vallier, @MagnusBaneIsEverithing, @jinxie86, and @codenamepenguin for your comments on the previous chapter! Your thoughts and kind words mean everything to me.

The sun catches the ridge and makes freshly fallen snow glow like a scattering of blended diamonds. Mountains rise and fall into snowy peaks all around the horizon. Pine trees cluster all around to boarder the trails and wide slopes. A winter sky stretches all above him, pale and blue and perfect.

Alec stares out at the gentle slope before him, absently toying with the goggles in his hands. He is waiting for Magnus to exit the lodge connected to the ski lift that they had arrived in. Inside the lodge are changing rooms and lockers. Alec had already swapped to his ski shoes and placed his trainers into a locker he and Magnus are sharing.

His father grumbles something about gays taking as much time as women to get ready and trudges back inside, apparently planning on observing them from the lodge’s café overlooking the blue slope they are stationed above. He gives Alec a sour look as he passes him. Alec instinctively averts his gaze.

Literal seconds after he has gone, Magnus wanders out of the lodge. His ski jacket is purple with gold lining and the trousers are black and fitting to match his gloves. The hat he pulls on is knitted and purple with a matching two-toned pompom. He waves at Alec with his free hand, the goggles hanging around his wrist catching gold-tinted in the bright sun. His snowboard is tucked under his other arm.

“Hey,” he greets, picking his way stiffly over the snow toward Alec. “Figured it’d be better if I waited for your dad to stop hovering. I get the feeling he doesn’t like me very much.”

Alec hums distractedly, tilting his head and trying to get a better look at Magnus’s board.

It is a deep, rich purple with binding for his feet fastened to the top and a giant pair of golden cat’s eyes painted on the bottom. Around the eyes, golden streams rush like wisps of smoke scattered in embers. Alec has never seen anything like it.

“Your board…” he begins, tilts his head. “Did you paint it yourself?”

Magnus nods, flips it over so Alec can better admire it. “Yes, my dad and I worked on it together when we were snowed into my uncle’s place in Canada. We’ve repainted it a dozen times since I got it. This one’s my favourite so far.”

“Well, it’s really cool,” Alec says. “Cats eyes… You like cats?”

“We get strays on the balcony of our apartment all the time,” Magnus explains with a soft shrug. “My dad keeps talking about adopting a rescue, but… well, we never got around to actually doing it.”

A crazy thought pops into Alec’s head; an insane and impossible future. He sees Magnus on a sofa, a large, dark-furred cat on his lap with those piercing gold eyes. Rings catch soft light as his fingers thread through the long fur. There is such a softness in Magnus’s expression, such contentment in his eyes.

Alec is there with him, watching him openly and unashamed. Magnus lifts his head, looks up at him with such fondness softening golden irises. White teeth flash in a soft and perfect smile.

“ _Alec…_ ”

“Alec!”

Alec shakes himself back to the present, blinks hard and forces himself into focusing. Magnus is looking at him strangely.

“Are you okay?” he asks, anxiety knitting his brows. “You kind of… You spaced for a moment there.”

“I’m fine,” Alec says, hating how he doesn’t even think about that response. It’s just default at this point; instinctive.

He turns his head, watches as his mother ensures Max has his boots secured properly onto his skis. She won’t be joining them. None of the adults got out on the trails much anymore, so it is always down to Alec and his siblings to train any new, ‘of-age’ members of their family. Max is thirteen now and more than capable of completing a blue run. Isabelle has been tasked with looking out for him, as the only one without a plus one this year.

Alec knows his mother has tried to keep it from him, but he has definitely noticed how she steered Max away from them for the entirety of yesterday. It is obvious that she doesn’t want him to be ‘exposed’ to Alec and Magnus’s same-sex relationship.

“Hey,” Magnus says close to his ear and Alec glances to him, swallowing hard at just how breath-taking he looks in his gear. No one looks good in such padded clothing, but Magnus is somehow pulling it off. “What do you say we skip the blue route and head onto something a little more fun?”

“We’re not going to black until I know you can handle it,” says Alec, thinking only of Magnus’s safety.

Chuckling softly, Magnus shakes his head. “Okay,” he agrees. “Apparently there’s a good red one a few minutes down the track. Wide all the way down. There’s jumps, but they’re avoidable, and it doesn’t go too steep.” He flashes Alec a smile, dazzling in the bright sun. “What’d you think? You in?”

Alec glances back to his family. Jace is giving Clary eskimo kisses. Isabelle is patting Max on the shoulder, asking him if he’s ready, to which he nods confidently. His mother is disappearing into the lodge. He looks back to Magnus, glances him up and down, weighing his options.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Sounds good.”

They blend into the steadily growing crowd of skiers and boarders with only a sideways look from Isabelle. She seems torn between exasperation and amusement, but she lets them go without a word. Alec is grateful for it, for her.

The red slope is less packed than the blue, yet there is still a scattering of skiers and snowboarders pushing themselves down the trail. Magnus stops to the side so he can slot his feet into the binding on his board. He looks to Alec as he stands on his board, a spark of playfulness in his eyes.

“Can I see that famed Lightwood talent now?”

Alec allows himself to smile. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Magnus hums his intrigue. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Not yet.”

With a competitive spark in his gut, Alec pushes himself onto the trail, lets gravity do the work for him as the ground slopes gently beneath his skis. He turns to see Magnus swerving up alongside him. There is a challenge in his eyes and Alec grins, shoves himself along faster, leaving Magnus behind him.

It isn’t for long, however. The art student soon reappears, completely relaxed as they gather more and more speed.

Unlike Alec’s skis, Magnus’s board is rarely flat the entire way down. The only time the middle hits the ground is when he’s switching edges, carving sharp meanders in the soft snow. Every time Alec looks out at the terrain and feels comfortable that he needn’t think too much about it, he focuses more on Magnus than the track.

He’s talented, Alec will give him that.

His father had always said that snowboarding was for low-life’s; Alec is still waiting for him to actually call them commoners like he’s some fancy lord, but the day has yet to come. All his life, Alec was taught to never associate with people who chose a board over skis.

Then, there is Magnus. Magnus, who had gone as far as to bring his own board on the trip. Magnus, who convinced Alec to bail on his family so he may actually enjoy himself for half an hour. Magnus, who looks absolutely stunning as he swerves his way down the track, just so slightly ahead of Alec now.

He heads for a jump and Alec follows, controlling his balance and keeping himself low, watching Magnus jump first. It isn’t particularly large or steep, but it is enough for Magnus to spin, to crouch and hold the back of his board and turn a perfect one hundred and eighty degrees, so his board is pointing the other way when he lands.

Alec himself keeps it simple, neglecting any tricks so he can focus on landing safely. Admittedly, he is a little distracted. He barely remembers skiing the rest of the trail. All he knows is Magnus’s smile and the exhilaration in his eyes when he skids his board to a stop at the bottom and lifts the googles from his eyes.

“That was incredible!” Alec exclaims, palming his goggles off as he stops beside Magnus. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Magnus lifts the goggles from his eyes, smirking softly. “Well, from seventeen to nineteen, I dated a professional snowboarder. We were friends for a while beforehand and it was learn, or sit back and watch, so I made her teach me. I seem to recall her saying I was a natural.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” says Alec and his face hurts from smiling. “You’re… God, is there anything you can’t do.”

“Pass as a rich guy for a week?” Magnus jokes, chuckling when Alec taps his calf with one of his ski poles.

Alec pushes himself closer. “You’re better than any rich guy here,” he says confidently. “It looks way harder than skiing.”

Magnus huffs, shrugs modestly. “Well, I’m not sure about that. I like to have my hands free, that’s all. Not sure what I’d do with those sticks you’ve got.” He grins and glances to the ski lift taking people back to the top. “You want to go again?”

When Alec smiles in response, he really means it.

“Absolutely.”

* * *

“Alexander, you need to get dressed.”

Alec purses his lips in soft consideration. Magnus is already perfect, a blueish-grey shirt with white patterns beneath a grey waistcoat, silver chains around his throat and looping his ears, another on the belt of his jeans. His boots are buckled and heeled.

They had spent the entire day on the slopes, racing down the trails and taking the chair lift back to the top and doing it over and over again until they were both flushed and breathless and the sun was sinking fast towards the horizon. It was Magnus who finally called it a night. Alec had lost himself in the exhilaration and the carelessness, the freedom of the day.

Magnus never struck him for the punctual or the planned type, but apparently he is more concerned with Alec’s wellbeing than he is with maintaining his true self. He knows that the vest shirt and jogging bottoms aren't dinner appropriate.

“We’ll be late for dinner at this rate,” says Magnus, glances back to Alec, who is sat on the edge of their shared bed. “I get the impression that your parents aren’t exactly approving of tardiness.”

“Yeah, well, they’ll disapprove even more when we don’t show up.”

Magnus’s eyes widen and he looks to Alec. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I—I thought…” Alec begins, nervous suddenly that his plan might backfire. “I mean, if you’re up for it, we could go to that pizza place I told you about. The one Izzy and… and Jace and I used to sneak off to sometimes. It’s pretty good. We can eat in or we can bring it back here. Whatever you like. If you don’t want to, then that’s okay. I just thought—”

“Alec,” Magnus interrupts him, firm enough to make him stop, but gentle enough that Alec knows he isn’t in trouble. “That sounds wonderful. Are you sure you want to piss off your parents though?”

Alec nods. “They’ll be glad to have us away for a night.”

Magnus tilts his head, but says nothing.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Alexander,” Magnus says with a slight roll of his eyes, but it is more playful than irritated. “It’s a yes.”

The pizza place is called _Abrielle’s_ and it is barely five minutes down the hill from the lodge. They don’t talk a lot on the way there. They don’t talk a lot at all actually. Alec wonders a moment if he might have done something wrong.

The girl who owns the place—Alec assumes her name is Abrielle—greets them in French as they enter and Magnus smiles at her as he gives his reply. Alec likes it when he speaks French. Cliché as it is, hearing Magnus’s voice shaping a different language makes it sound so wonderful. It’s like Magnus’s mouth was _made_ for it.

“What are we getting?” Magnus asks, looks to Alec expectantly.

“Oh, uh…” Alec begins, trails. “I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

Magnus looks to him with an arched brow. “Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want.”

Magnus hums his intrigue and lifts his eyes to the menu written in white on a black sign above the counter. “Well, if you’re sure,” he says and approaches the counter, slipping easily into French again to talk to Abrielle.

They have a conversation that is definitely not about pizza. At one point Magnus shakes his head and glances back to Alec, points at him, and Abrielle lifts a hand in apology. Magnus shakes his head with a chuckle. Alec wishes more than ever that he knew how to speak French.

He doesn’t intervene, however, not until Magnus takes out his wallet and hands the girl some money.

“Hey,” Alec chides, coming to press a hand to his back. “You didn’t have to do that. I was supposed to pay.”

“You can’t pay for everything, Alexander,” Magnus says with a small smile.

Alec clenches his jaw absently, deciding to let it go. “Did you ask to eat in or take away?”

“Take away,” says Magnus. “I was hoping we could go back to the room. I’m getting pretty tired. Might just crash after we eat.”

Alec tilts his head. “Well, that’s understandable. You haven’t slept properly for a couple of days.” He watches after Abrielle as she disappears into the kitchen. “What were you two talking about?” Magnus frowns and Alec gestures behind him to the young woman. “You and her. It was way more than ordering pizza.”

“Oh, she asked me if I was local and I told her I wasn’t,” says Magnus. “She wanted to go out with me.”

“Out like… like on a date out?”

There is an amused kind of look in Magnus’s eyes when he nods. “Yes, Alec, on a date out. It was flattering, but I explained that you were my boyfriend. She apologised. I don’t know why people apologise for showing interest. I’ve never understood that.”

Alec shrugs. “Maybe she thought I’d be jealous or something.”

Magnus gives him a careful look. Alec almost frowns as how curious, how guarded it is. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Jealous.”

Alec’s eyes narrow, confusion clouding his mind. “No,” he says. “We aren’t actually dating… I don’t get it. Why would I be jealous?”

Magnus turns his head to half avert his eyes. “No reason.”

That look is in his eye again. That look as if he knows everything there is to know, as if he has all the knowledge of the universe packed in behind those golden eyes. Sometimes Alec likes that look. This is not one of those times. It’s like Magnus knows something about Alec that Alec doesn’t even know about himself.

It might be a little unnerving. It might also be a little exciting; a _lot_ exciting. Alec has never had that before. No one really knows him at all anymore. To have Magnus look at him like that, with understanding, might be one of the most beautiful sights in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the later than usual update and subpar writing: this week has not been good for me. Hopefully I'll be doing a bit better soon.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having finished their pizza in the shared bedroom, Alec pesters Magnus about seeing his sculptures. Downstairs, he finally has a real conversation with Jace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my recent commenters: @Vallier, @MagnusBaneIsEverithing, @codenamepenguin, @jinxie86, and @BlackBeautyQueen33 (for so many comments!!). Especially thank you to those of you sending love while I was going through a tough time; I'm feeling a lot better now!

“Look, there’s no way you don’t have at least one picture of a sculpture on your phone.”

Magnus huffs and throws himself dramatically back on the bed. “It’s embarrassing, Alec,” he says, and Alec can’t help but smile at his overreaction. “My dad tells me to take pictures of all of them for… posterity, I guess? But there is no way I’m showing you.”

Alec smirks softly. It’s almost eleven and the rest of the lodge is presumably sleeping. Not them, however.

They had talked for hours over shared pizza, mostly inconsequential things like the slopes today and what their plans are for tomorrow, and if they’ll ever actually return to a family dinner in this lodge or if they’ll sneak off every night. Then, Alec got to talking about Magnus and the young man had closed up a little.

It is something Alec is becoming accustomed to at this point. Magnus will talk non-top about Alec, about them both, but as soon as it turns solely on him, he refuses to talk about anything other than the basics. Alec wants to see his sculptures. He doesn’t think it should be an issue.

“Come on,” he coaxes, grabs an empty pizza box and tosses it off the bed. “Just one.”

“Do you always just throw your trash on the floor?”

Alec pouts a little in regret, swings himself off the bed to retrieve the pizza box, folding it up as small as he can get it and pushing it into the bin in the corner. Magnus grins at him, sits himself up and shifts over to give Alec some room as he climbs back onto the bed.

“Nice to see you’re such a pushover,” he teases and Alec pushes his shoulder half-heartedly.

“Come on, don’t avoid the subject,” Alec says, tilts his head a little as he gives Magnus a fond kind of look. He can’t stop it from altering his expression. He doesn’t want to. “I’ve seen your sketches. Why are your sculptures any different?”

Magnus pouts a little, clearly fighting back annoyance, and he takes his phone from his pocket, unlocking it before tossing it into Alec’s lap. “Here. Go nuts.”

If there weren’t a playfulness to his tone, Alec would simply give it back to Magnus. That sparkle in his eyes is permission enough, however, and Alec eagerly taps on _Photos_. Honestly, he isn’t sure what he expects. Maybe he assumed it would just be rows upon rows of sculpture. Maybe he isn’t ready to see pictures of Magnus with his arms around people.

There are recurring individuals: the black woman he had been with at the club when they first met, Clary with her fiery hair, a stony-faced Latino boy a little younger than Magnus, a pretty, doe-eyed woman who is kissing his cheek. Alec desperately wants to ask who she is.

He knows Magnus is bisexual and he has every right to kiss or be kissed by whoever he wants. He knows they aren’t actually dating. He knows he shouldn’t feel something rise in his chest—something ugly and envious—at the sight of this woman kissing Magnus like that. Alec has to assume this is Magnus’s girlfriend. He doesn’t see why he would keep the picture on his phone otherwise.

“How’d you explain this to her?” Alec asks, aiming for light and careless, but he thinks it comes in accusation.

Magnus blinks his confusion. “What?”

Alec taps on the photo and turns the phone for Magnus to see. “I mean, your girlfriend can’t have been thrilled about you pretending to date someone else.”

Magnus chuckles softly. “Oh, Alec, Dorothea and I broke up months ago. It was a mutual thing.”

Alec frowns, looks back at the picture. “Why’d you keep stuff like this then?”

“Because we’re still friends,” says Magnus, shrugs softly, “and at one point I loved her. I still do to a more platonic extent.” He tilts his head. “I’m not an avid believer in erasing people from my life… Once someone makes an impact, that’s it; they’re stuck with me.” He leans himself back against the pillows, a playful spark in his eyes. “Why does it matter?”

Alec sniffs in nonchalance and looks away. “It doesn’t,” he says. The last thing he needs is Magnus asking him if he’s jealous again. He is _not_ jealous. He doesn’t have the right to be jealous because Magnus isn’t his boyfriend. Magnus will never be his boyfriend.

Based on the photos, Magnus is clearly very popular and loved by those he holds dear. Alec isn’t surprised. Magnus has the most magnetic personality he has ever had the pleasure to experience.

When he finds a section of sculptures, it is further up, past dozens upon dozens of pictures of Magnus and his friends. Alec taps on each one, zooms in, studies them carefully. They are gorgeous and eclectic; marble busts and figurines, animals and people and even an angel. Alec stares in awe at the angel’s wings, each individual feather intricately carved and detailed.

“Magnus, these are incredible,” Alec says, his voice hushed in awe. “You’re so talented. I can’t believe you…”

His voice trails as he lifts his head and sees Magnus slumped fully back against the pillows, his eyes closed and his expression slack and relaxed. Alec frowns softly, edging his way across the bed to reach out and touch Magnus’s arm. There’s no reaction.

Alec remembers suddenly that Magnus’s medication didn’t just make him an insomniac, but they also make him a bit narcoleptic when he hasn’t slept for a while. It makes sense. Mostly, Alec is just amazed by how quickly he had fallen into such a deep sleep.

“I can absolutely believe that you sculpted these,” says Alec in an almost-whisper. “Because you’re the most talented person I’ve ever met and I’ve barely known you a month. Because you always surprise me and always in the best ways.” He huffs softly at the pure absurdity of it, of speaking to Magnus when he isn’t even awake it hear it. “Somehow I think you’re tying for the top spot for the best people in my life right now… Izzy might be beating you. She _is_ my sister.”

Magnus shifts suddenly and Alec falls into a dead silence, watching him turn onto his side, halfway over _Alec’s_ side of the bed. Somehow, his hair is still perfect. _He_ is still perfect.

Alec elects to stop talking. It won’t mean anything if he does. Maybe one day he’ll buck up the courage to pay an actual compliment to Magnus while he’s conscious.

For now, he simply gets up to plug Magnus’s phone in to charge overnight on the bedside table, and tugs his shoes on to head downstairs for a glass of water. He gets about halfway through the front room when a voice says his name and he turns towards it.

“Now, you should definitely be asleep,” he says with a smile.

His youngest brother rolls his eyes in a way just so _Max_. “I was getting a snack,” he says concisely, and Alec briefly notes something that might be cookie crumbs on his pyjama top before Max launches himself into Alec’s arms.

“Hey,” Alec greets him properly, hugging him tightly. “Sorry we didn’t get to catch up yesterday, I hear you were busy on the slopes.”

“I wanted to see you, but mom said I had to practice with Jace and Clary. I’m way better than her and mom knows it.” Alec smiles, comforted to know that his little brother hasn’t changed a bit. Max looks thoughtful a moment before getting to the point he clearly wants to talk about. “Is that guy you brought your boyfriend?”

Alec cants his head slightly. “What did mom say?”

“She said he was just yours and Clary’s friend,” says Max, scrunches his nose defiantly, “but I’m not stupid. I saw you at dinner last night. You act like Jace and Clary, but less annoying.”

Quiet for a moment, Alec can’t help but hesitate. “And what do you think of that?”

Max shrugs. “Whatever. I don’t care.”

It’s a little nonchalant, but that just makes it perfect. Alec drops to hug him again, tight enough so that Max squirms away with an expression creased in disapproval. It doesn’t matter. Max doesn’t hate him or treat him like he’s changed. That’s all that Alec cares about.

“Mom and dad don’t like it, do they?” says Max. “They yell a lot.”

Alec frowns, on his feet again. “What, they’ve been fighting?”

“All the time.”

“Max.”

Both look to see Jace approaching. Alec instinctively stands a little more upright, fixing his posture. He wonders how he managed to hit a weird yet highly active time for people to be downstairs. It fits with how he’s expecting this week to go. Maybe he’s cursed.

“Quit gossiping, okay?” Jace murmurs, a smile to his lips and his words. “It’s past your bedtime anyway. Go on.”

Max looks between them, huffs in soft irritation and wanders away. Alec forces himself to meet Jace’s eyes, forces his breathing to come steadier and calmer. It is difficult, but either Jace doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Most likely, the former.

“So,” Jace mutters, scuffs his foot against the ground, “didn’t see you at dinner.”

Alec stays quiet a moment. “I took Magnus to _Abrielle’s_. I didn’t want to subject him to dinner here again.”

Jace frowns at him. “What, our dinners aren’t good enough for him?”

“Not when dad had literal weeks to get some vegetarian recipes in for him and didn’t,” says Alec, works his jaw. “Are we just going to argue about Magnus or did you actually want to talk?”

Jace breathes out slowly, averts his eyes a moment and lifts a hand to rub the nape of his neck. “Look, Alec… You’ve been pretty distant lately and I think you’ve kinda freaked mom out with this whole… this whole gay thing coming out of nowhere.”

“It came from you,” says Alec, crosses his arms over his chest. “You outed me.”

“You should have told me,” Jace says accusingly.

Anger rises so quick and unexpected and Alec can’t think about holding it in before he is jabbing a finger to Jace’s chest. “Don’t you _fucking_ dare turn this on me,” he hisses, making his brother frown and blink rapidly. “You had no right to tell our father about me. You knew I hadn’t told anyone about it and you were as stupid and reckless and your goddamn girlfriend.”

Jace glares at him. “What’s your problem with Clary?”

“My problem with Clary is that she is so completely whipped for you that she just tells you everything she knows about my boyfriend without thinking about how you’d take it. I know you’ve been avoiding us and you’ve apparently got something against me dating him. You have no right to judge him without even knowing him.”

“I know he’s got some kind of mental illness,” says Jace, challenge in his eyes. “I know he’s fucked a ton of people before and he’s only here because he wants to do the same to you—”

Alec grabs the front of his shirt, drags him in, almost knocking their heads together in the process. His hand itches to rise, to strike his brother. “You don’t know _anything_ about him,” he snarls. “You don’t know him and you don’t know me. Until you have an actual conversation with him, don’t make assumptions… Got it?”

Jace huffs and pulls away, shoves Alec’s hand down and smooths out his shirt. “Now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he mutters, lifts his eyes to Alec, “are we good?”

“Can you admit that being bisexual doesn’t make someone a slut and that having mental problems doesn’t make them insane?”

Jace tilts his head. “Yeah, fine.”

Alec knows it would be harder to argue. As much as he wants to tell Jace off, he doesn’t want them to be enemies. He tells himself that Jace will come to realise the truth; that Magnus is good and kind, that he is nothing like what Jace thinks. The fact that he is even here is enough to prove that. It isn’t something Jace can know about, however.

“So… are we good?”

Alec sighs, closes his eyes and absently rubs a hand into the hair on the back of his head. “Yeah,” he mutters, just wanting to go upstairs, to get this over with, to be with Magnus. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Great,” Jace says, shrugs softly. “It sucks fighting with you.”

The anger pushes at his chest again and Alec forces it down. What sucks is how instantly and harshly his brother had judged Magnus. What sucks is how everything always has to be about Jace. What sucks is how his family treat him now.

“Yeah,” is all he says. “It sucks.”

* * *

A startled cry breaks through Alec’s sleep and he thrashes in panic, scrambles upright, wide eyes staring into the darkness to seek the source of the sound.

It feels as though he fell asleep only seconds ago, having retreated upstairs after his argument with Jace and gently shifted Magnus onto his side of the bed, stacking up a pillow barricade before crawling in beside him. It feels silly almost, but Alec knows it is for the best that they be separated at least somewhat.

In the dark, it takes him too long to realise that Magnus is sat up and heaving for breath at his side.

“Magnus?” Alec asks, reaching for him, rubbing a hand over his shoulder and finding he is shaking. “God, was that you?”

“I...” Magnus begins; Alec sees the outline of him shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I... I was dreaming. I had a bad dream.”

Alec swallows hard, remembers what Ragnor had warned him about. “Yeah, that’s it,” he confirms, both hands on Magnus’s shoulders now. “That’s right. It’s just a dream. It’s not real. It can’t hurt you.”

Magnus lifts a hand to his head. “Do you have water? I—I forgot to get some before I fell asleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, here,” says Alec, reaching to the table on his side and grabbing the glass. “Here.”

The sound of Magnus drinking is the only sound in the room for the next few seconds, louder in contrast to the steady silence. He gasps when he swallows, still breathing too heavy and too fast. Alec wonders if he needs to say something. He regrets now not speaking more with Magnus’s dad.

“Thanks,” Magnus croaks, returning the glass back to Alec’s hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alec asks as he sets the glass back onto the table.

Magnus shakes his head. “It’s just dreams about my mother. I’m fine. I’m used to it.”

Alec swallows hard. “I’m sorry... Do you dream about... when she died?”

“Alec,” says Magnus, breathing out into the darkness. He sounds so resigned. Alec wants to tell him that he needn’t say anything if he doesn’t want to. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it… My mother wasn’t killed in some tragic, unavoidable accident. She committed suicide.”

Alec’s heart drops into his stomach. “Oh... god, Magnus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I should’ve told you before. It’s the reason for my PTSD, the reason therapy doesn’t work... I don’t have any delusions about it. I know what happened. I know she was sick.” He sighs slowly, closes his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I suggested that I come here with you. You shouldn’t have to deal with me.”

“Magnus,” says Alec, grabs Magnus’s hand. “I’m glad it was you. I couldn’t imagine this with anyone else. I couldn’t have done this with anyone else.” He swallows hard, carefully releasing Magnus’s hand. “I’m sorry… for everything you had to go through. I’m sorry for piling on to your troubles like this.”

“Alexander,” Magnus murmurs, reclaims Alec’s hand and lifts it to his lips. Alec stares as Magnus chastely kisses his knuckles. “Don’t apologise to me.” He releases Alec’s hand to the mattress. “I should let you sleep. I need some air.”

Alec wants to protest, to offer his company, but he can’t find the words. He can’t even look at Magnus, staring at his hand. He can still feel the whisper of Magnus’s lips on his skin. Those lips. Alec had felt them before, in less innocent circumstances, but it’s different now.

That softness on his skin, that warmth like nothing he has ever felt before. It is overwhelming. Alec finds he can barely breathe. He’s never felt like this before.

When he finally tears his gaze from his hand, Magnus is gone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec takes Magnus out of the lodge for the morning and issues a challenge on the slopes. The boys get competitive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG thank you to my commenters: @Verunka, @jinxie86, @BlackBeautyQueen33, @MagnusBaneIsEverithing, @Starnana, @codenamepenguin, @Vallier, @luucyqueen, @Adaline_Blooms, @June hodge, @Tan, and @Lovemalec!
> 
> There’s been a LOT of comments recently, and I’m aware that I’m dividing opinions (about Jace in particular), so if I take a direction you don’t like, don’t feel pressured to keep reading! Your support is amazing and means everything to me, but don’t read stuff you don’t like.
> 
> That being said, I love hearing readers thoughts, so thank you for all your comments!

“I can’t believe you did this.”

“Hey, I haven’t done anything—”

“No, I mean I _can’t believe_ you did this.”

Alec smiles and stares down the slope. He supposes that Magnus’s disbelief is understandable. He isn’t exactly one for disobeying his family. This week, however, has gone in leaps and bounds of disobedience. Magnus brings out something strange in him.

The day had started like any other, Alec waking up to see Magnus already dressed, sitting cross-legged in the centre of his side of the bed with an open book in his lap. Alec dressed himself in the bathroom, which wasn’t uncommon, but when Magnus rose to meet him, Alec walked past and grabbed his coat from the wardrobe.

Magnus had tried to query, but Alec had brushed him off with “I have a plan if you can wait an hour or so before breakfast” and Magnus had easily agreed. So, they put their coats on, grabbed their skiing and snowboarding gear, and snuck out of the lodge.

Now, at the top of the slope, with Magnus primed on his board beside him, Alec can’t stop smiling. Magnus looks to him, an eyebrow arched. He seems impressed almost.

“So… your plan?”

“Right. My plan,” Alec begins, pointing down the slope, “is that. Clear slope. You and me. Frantic, uninterrupted race. Winner takes all; and by ‘takes all’ I mean ‘the loser has to buy them breakfast at that little café’.” He points to the cabin beside them, connected to the top of the lift. “We’ll come back up to have breakfast and we can either go back down the slope, or take the lift back to the bottom. Whichever you prefer.”

“So, when I win,” Magnus says with a grin, “you have to buy me coffee.”

“And when _I_ win,” counters Alec, tilting his head, “you’ll buy me coffee… and breakfast.”

Magnus grins at him. “Sure.”

Before yesterday, Alec would have considered going easy on him. If this was their first time on a slope together, Alec would have slowed down. But it isn’t, so he doesn’t. He gives it his all and he’s pleased to see that Magnus does too. It must be healthy to be at least a little competitive, regardless of any feelings Alec may have for him.

As soon as they push off the top, they are doing everything to gather as much speed as possible. Magnus swerves almost directly in front of him and Alec nearly topples over in his haste to avoid crashing into him. He quickly catches his balance, however, casts Magnus a disapproving look.

“Hey, no cheating!” Alec yells, though it’s playful and light and Magnus laughs at him.

Magnus behaves himself for the remainder of the race, and Alec gathers speed, takes a few jumps for momentum, and gradually pulls ahead of him. Magnus calls out to him in playful indignation. Alec ignores him, skis his way to the end of the trail. He doesn’t see Magnus at all for the last stretch, and even has time to look back when he comes to a firm stop at the end, snow spraying in a fine powder away from his skis.

He watches with a grin as Magnus skids to a halt beside him. That amusement turns to panic when Magnus’s board tips back too far and lands him on his back in the snow.

“Shit, Magnus!” Alec gasps, pushing himself to Magnus’s side where he has slid to a stop.

His anxiety is misplaced, however. Magnus is laughing. The sound is so bright and genuine that Alec can’t help but smile.

“Are you okay?” Alec asks, tries not to smile.

Magnus hums and nods, palming his goggles up to push at his hair so he can squint up at Alec. “You were way faster than I was ready for,” he chuckles. “Couldn’t stop in time without falling on my ass, so here we are.” He smiles, teeth flashing in the bright sun. “Congratulations. You’ve bested me.”

“Wasn’t hard,” Alec teases, yelping and trying to duck away when Magnus aims a flurry of snow at his face. It proves impossible with his skis weighing him down, however, and he stumbles, almost trips in his haste to escape. The snow misses him regardless.

Magnus groans dramatically and pushes his head back against the snow. “Help me up, will you?”

“Course,” Alec says, comes to grab Magnus’s hands and pull him to his feet. When his fake-boyfriend is up, Alec pushes his own goggles off. “How would you buy me breakfast if you’re lying on the floor all day?”

“Ha-ha,” Magnus says, tone dripping with sarcasm, but there is a fond kind of light in his eyes.

They shuffle over to the ski lifts, and ride a chair back to the top of the slope. Alec admires the view. Magnus turns his head, stares at him, and Alec not-so-subtly averts his gaze, brow furrowing at the crest of the slope before them, the snow dozens of feet down, the pines tree lining the trails, filling the air with their winter scent.

“All of this beautiful scenery,” says Magnus, casting his gaze in a circle at their surroundings, “and Alec Lightwood is looking at little old me.”

“I wasn’t,” protests Alec, shifting in their seat and working his jaw absently. “I was looking… at the trees behind you.”

Magnus hums, tilts his head. “Of course.”

They are quiet for the rest of the ride up. Alec doesn’t protest and he determinedly does _not_ look at Magnus. In the cabin up past the crest of the snowy slope, they change out of their gear and shove it into a shared locker, slipping on their every-day shoes and heading to the café that overlooks the slopes.

Magnus orders in French without asking Alec what he wants, but the latter isn’t worried. He trusts Magnus’s judgement. When their pastries and their coffees come, Alec takes a sip from his mug and hums in appreciation. It’s black, just how he likes it.

“You remembered,” he mumbled, taking another deep drink of the rich liquid.

“I remembered,” Magnus agrees, sips his own latte.

Alec hums and takes a bite of his pastry, pleasantly surprised by the chocolate centre to his croissants. It’s a simple thing, to have someone memorise your coffee order, but a wonderful one. Alec has never had that before. He looks across the table to Magnus, sipping on his latte, and can’t help but smile.

Magnus’s eyes brighten in interest and he swallows his mouthful of drink, setting his mug down on the table. “What?” he asks, soft and curious.

“It’s nothing,” Alec says, and hesitates, pouts softly as he watches Magnus drink again. “It’s just…” Once again, Magnus places his mug down, gives Alec his undivided attention. Alec feels a spark of guilt for distracting him from his breakfast—a liquid breakfast though it is. “It’s just that you know my coffee order.”

“Yes,” says Magnus, smiles at him. “It’s just a black coffee. It’s easy enough to remember.”

“I know, but it’s—” Alec begins and cuts himself off. It feels too intimate to try and explain it to Magnus, to go on about how such a simple thing could mean so much. It feels foolish now, thinking about it. “It doesn’t matter,” he finishes lamely, returning his attention to his breakfast.

Magnus continues to look at him, a knowing kind of glint to his golden eyes. Alec doesn’t think he likes it. It feels vulnerable to have someone see him. It seems that Magnus can gaze directly into his soul, to see him as he is. Overwhelming barely covers it. Alec feels naked.

“You and your dad have the same look,” he says, barely more intelligible than a mumble. “You guys psychic or something?”

A soft hum presses Magnus’s lips. “Or something,” he says and chuckles softly when Alec frowns at him. “No, we’re not psychic. My dad just… He’s good at reading people. Some of it must have rubbed off on me.”

Alec takes another mouthful of coffee, a thoughtful pinch to his brow when he swallows. “You said he was an emergency foster carer?”

A soft pout touches Magnus’s lips and he glances away slightly. Alec has come to recognise that as him beginning to close off. “Yes, that was during his art days, when he could work from home and control his own hours… Before he adopted me.”

“Must have gotten good at figuring out when people are hiding things,” says Alec. “All those kids he looked after… They must have been through a lot to end up with him. He told me he took in, uh… ‘troubled kids’, I think he called them. It can’t have been easy… Can’t have been easy for _you_.”

Magnus is refusing to meet his eyes, staring down at his latte. “I…” he begins and closes his mouth, says nothing. His eyes fall shut, breathing out slowly, and Alec despairs that he has likely brought up a time that Magnus doesn’t want to think about.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “You don’t have to talk about it. I just…” He shrugs an absent shoulder. “I want to know you a little better, that’s all. We can talk about something else if you want.”

Magnus runs a slow finger around the rim of his mug. “You’re right. It wasn’t easy,” he admits, taking a deep breath and breathing it out in a slow sigh. “I didn’t even speak the language when I was put in a care home. There wasn’t a lot of effort to help me learn it… I kept running away, so they called Ragnor and he took me in.”

Alec frowns softly, shakes his head. “Who’s ‘they’?”

Magnus shrugs softly. “Social workers, police officers,” he says, more distant now, and Alec bites the inside of his cheek, worried that he is pushing Magnus too far.

“Hey,” Alec utters, reaching across the table to take the hand that Magnus has absently drifting over his latte. He holds it tight, rests them upon the table. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything else. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Magnus holds him a little tighter and his eyes close briefly. When they open again, it is with a new kind of clarity. “I’ll tell you everything,” he says and Alec blinks in shock, “one day.”

Alec nods slowly to mask his surprise. “One day,” he echoes.

“Yes,” Magnus says, “but not now. Maybe not for a while… This week is about you. Not me.”

“Magnus, that’s not—”

“I know,” Magnus says, squeezes his hand a little firmer, and Alec blinks his surprise, forgetting that their hands were joined at all. “Just… later, alright? We’ll talk about all of this later.”

Again, Alec nods. Magnus disentangles their hands, pulls back to revisit his drink. He doesn’t know what to say. Magnus’s life has been so hard. At such a young age, he lost his mother and was orphaned, stuck in a country where he didn’t speak the language, running from a place that couldn’t give him what he needed.

There are gaps, however, burning questions in Alec’s mind. He is still unaware as to _how_ Magnus came to be in America. As far as Alec knows, he was orphaned in Indonesia with no other family. It doesn’t make sense to him. Now isn’t the time to ask about it. Magnus had said he would reveal everything one day, and Alec believes him.

Magnus is quiet now, subdued, and Alec tilts his head down at his breakfast, wondering how to get him back.

“Do you want a croissant?” he asks, looking up.

Magnus laughs softly and Alec knows now that it is the most blessed sound on this earth. The way his expression moves—the way he closes his eyes and shows his teeth—when he laughs is beautiful. Alec has fond memories of all the times he has seen and heard it; during their info-dump sessions, a lifetime ago now; in the swimming pool, bathed in shimmering blue light; right now, in the café overlooking the snow-covered slope.

“Sure,” Magnus says, breaks the spell, and Alec blinks at him, meets the golden eyes that still manage to take his breath away. “A croissant sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally nothing happened in this chapter, but it’s all chill and malec so we can cool down a little before we see Jace again!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Magnus and Alec return to the lodge after their morning ski, they are drawn into a snowball fight with Alec's siblings. Alec is struck with a realisation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who left comments on the last chapter: @BlackBeautyQueen33, @MagnusBaneIsEverithing, @Adaline_Blooms, @Verunka, @codenamepenguin, @jinxie86, and @Vallier!

Magnus and Alec return to the lodge in fits of laughter, clutching one another for support like drunk men.

Their race after breakfast had tickled them both. Alec had fumbled his stop at the end and tripped over his skis, his legs sticking up in the air and a fine powdery snow all over his clothes. Magnus had laughed at him the entire walk back to the lodge. Alec had pretended to be grumpy, pouting at his fake-boyfriend’s antics, but it was a lie.

He wasn’t upset, not in the slightest. He might have even fallen on purpose just to see Magnus laugh again. It was infectious. He pouts and it makes Magnus laugh more. He keeps up the act just because Magnus thinks it’s funny. So, he mumbles and grumbles all the way to the lodge, where Magnus had finally lifted a hand for him to stop.

“Okay, okay, let me show you what you looked like, alright? Imagine skis.”

Magnus had promptly fallen onto his back in the deep snow on either side of the lane up to the lodge. He had half-disappeared into the drift and Alec snorted his laughter. Magnus smiled at him, brighter than the sun, and Alec had to quash a sudden and unexpected stir of arousal.

So far, he has managed to keep to himself. As much pleasure as he finds in his memories of his hasty time with Magnus in the club bathroom and in the academy’s closet, it feels wrong to think of him in that way. They aren’t together after all, and their first meetings are a big part of that.

Alec hates himself for his actions. They have ensured that Magnus is closed to him forever. No matter how much it feels like Magnus is flirting with him sometimes, Alec knows he is like that with all his friends. It doesn’t mean anything.

Now, upon the verandah of the lodge, they are both covered head-to-toe in clumps of snow, shaking it out from their rapidly shedding clothes.

Inside, they drape their clothes over radiators lining the walls. Magnus chuckles softly and Alec looks to him just as he reaches to ruffle snow from his dark hair. Alec pulls away from him half on instinct, his mood soured by the memories of his flaws and failures. Magnus tilts his head a little, but says nothing.

Footsteps sound behind them and both men turn to see Jace entering the lodge, tracking snow all over the floor. “Alec,” he says, red-cheeked and breathless and sticking a thumb behind him. “Snowball fight, now.”

Alec frowns softly. He has no idea how their very brief conversation last night somehow made Jace believe that they were back to normal. He supposes that Jace only hears what he wants to hear, and what he heard is Alec saying that they were ‘good’. In all honesty, Alec will take that over another argument.

He would rather bite his tongue and suffer in silence than continue to fight with his brother. God knows he has been working at it long enough.

A heavy breath exhales from his lips, however. “Jace, we’ve literally just got in.”

“How? It’s like ten in the morning.”

Magnus casts Alec a fond look, both ignoring Jace’s comment about the time. “Come now, Alexander. Surely you’re not opposed to a little friendly competition.”

Jace looks at him, his eyes a little wide and Alec knows that trouble is coming. “Oh, you… you want to join in?”

Magnus meets his gaze, not quite challenging, just steadfast. Alec might be a little turned on by that, but it’s not something he elects to focus on. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, I mean…” Jace hesitates, glancing to his brother, who gives him no assistance, crossing his arms over his chest. “We were going to do boys versus girls. If you join in, we’ll have odd numbers.”

“What, Max doesn’t want in?” asks Alec, to which Jace shoots him a stern look.

“Yes, but Max is twelve.”

“So, we won’t have odd numbers. You’re just being difficult.”

Magnus waves a hand to stop them from fighting. “Easy, boys. Putting aside the non-binary eradication of the boys versus girls complex, I am perfectly comfortable with teaming up with Clary and Isabelle.”

“So, that’s fair because Clary throws like a twelve-year-old,” says Alec matter-of-factly.

Jace looks to him sternly. “Hey, that’s my girlfriend. Back off.”

“So, you’re allowed to be an ass to my boyfriend, but as soon as I say one bad thing about Clary—”

“Hey!”

All three turn at the yell, to see Isabelle stood there, her hands on her hips and irritation in her eyes.

“You both have beautiful significant others, now get your asses out here before we exile you from the fight.” She points a threatening finger at her brothers. “And we can do that. We can pit Clary and Magnus against me and Max and we can throw both you out. You get that? Are we going to quit fighting now and start _fighting_?”

Alec gives Magnus a sheepish kind of look. His fake-boyfriend just looks at him, smiles softly, if not a little hesitantly. Alec regrets pulling back from him now. It’s too intimate, but he wants Magnus’s hand in his hair, brushing the snow from ruffled locks. But he had pulled away.

It could be the cornerstone of the second reason their relationship could never progress into anything more than friends. Alec is overly cautious now to compensate for the eagerness of their first meeting. He can’t hurt Magnus like that ever again. He won’t do it.

Alec thinks on that as he and Magnus grab some fresh trousers and coats—Alec’s white and high-collared with a black trim, Magnus’s long and dark red with bronze buttons—before exiting the lodge to the snow-blanketed gardens. It is just a wide clearing on the edge of a pine forest. In summer, it would bloom with flowers.

Isabelle already has half a fort built, a barricade of snow large enough for her entire team to duck behind. Clary is helping to pat it down when Isabelle piles it up higher and wider.

“How come you get a head start?” Alec asks, drawing her attention up to him.

“Because my team wasn’t arguing for no reason,” she says, sweetly enough that Alec knows he’s still in trouble.

Magnus looks to him, amusement bright in his eyes. “Good luck.”

Alec hums and turns to where his team has gathered. Max is trying to pile snow like his sister, but it’s just a misshapen lump on the ground that barely covers his knees. Jace is half-heartedly kicking skiffs of snow at it, but it’s just making it wider, not taller. Alec sighs softly.

“Gotta use your arms, Jace."

He takes a leadership position on nothing but instinct, kneeling beside Max to show him how to pile the snow up higher. Jace joins them. He and Alec exchange a long look, but, as Alec opens his mouth to speak, his brother turns away from him. It's alright. Alec will _show_ him that Magnus is a good person; it doesn't have to be said.

Alec is competitive. For a while before they begin the fight, he worries that it might ruin whatever it is that he and Magnus have. He is pleased to find once the first shot lands, however, that Magnus also has a healthy dose of the competitive streak. Jace never even aims a snowball in Clary’s direction, apparently too worried about hurting or upsetting her, but the rest of them are absolutely ruthless.

Anyone on the opposite team is fair game for pelting with snowballs. Clary clearly has no problem aiming for Jace even if her boyfriend won’t throw back. At one point, Alec is hit directly in the face and the sheer shock of freezing snow sends him toppling back.

Even his teammates laugh at him, but none more so than Isabelle, who it turns out was the perpetrator of the shot.

“Cover me,” Alec orders his teammates before sprinting across the short gap, scooping up an armful of snow as he runs, planning on throwing it at his sister.

A weight slams into his side and sends him sprawling in the snow. He rolls at the momentum, planning on trapping whoever lunged at him under his own weight, but they roll too. Alec yelps as he is pressed firmly into the snow, blinking hard against the snowflakes clinging to his lashes.

It’s Magnus. Of course it has to be him and of course he has to be smiling like that.

Magnus is huffing through a grin and Alec can feel his entire body move with the breaths, feels the knee pressed between his legs and thanks God he has snow pants on to conceal the betrayal of his own body. Alec shoves him off, tosses a flurry of soft snow in his face, breaking the spell.

“Oh, you asshole,” Magnus mutters, wiping the snow from his face and grinning at Alec. “You’re going down.”

“Oh yeah?” Alec challenges, quirks a brow at him and yelps when Magnus grabs a handful of snow and throws it at him. He ducks just in time, rolls and runs back to his team’s fort.

“Hey, don’t run away from me!” Magnus complains, chases after him only to get bombarded by Max.

Alec laughs at him as he mocks a pretty good death scene, clutching his chest where he was hit and dramatically flopping into the snow. It’s so deep, he practically disappears into it. There’s a snort from his side and Alec looks to see Jace grinning.

Something warm and familiar touches Alec’s heart, some reminder that he and Jace, Isabelle and Max, used to have fun. Whatever happened during the year, during the first couple of days of their vacation, the snowball fight always brought them together. It always used to be a free-for-all. Maybe this teamwork is good for them.

Magnus groans softly from his snow pit. “Where are my teammates when I need them?”

Alec makes and face and calls a ceasefire, steps out from behind the fort and goes to Magnus, stoops to grab his arms and pull him to his feet. Gloved hands dust the snow from Magnus’s coat. Magnus himself just stares at him, tilting his head softly.

“What?” Alec mutters.

“You’re way too easy.”

“What—?”

A crush of snow hits him in the face, gets in his open mouth. Alec splutters and wipes it away, pouts his displeasure when Magnus just smiles at him innocently.

“Hate you,” Alec grumbles as snow slides down the back of his neck.

“No way, you love me,” Magnus teases.

Alec almost forgets himself. He manages to bite his tongue, to feign annoyance convincingly enough that Magnus just smiles that easy smile. That gorgeous smile. Maybe Alec has feelings for him, but he knows it is unrequited.

When they first met, he was awful. He used Magnus to understand his own, confusing sexuality and he knows he will never stop feelings horrible about it. After their first meeting, he planned on never talking to Magnus again. Now, seeing his face every day, he is reminded of his behaviour.

Magnus doesn’t want him. Even Magnus’s dad had made it clear enough that it would be better for Alec not to develop feelings for him. He must have known how difficult it would be. This is a sweet kind of torture. Magnus’s skin is dark, but it glows under the light, and his eyes are bright, molten gold and if he does one more endearing thing, Alec will be lost.

He thinks he might be in love.

Somehow, it is all at once the most wonderful and the most terrible feeling in the world.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec takes Magnus out to dinner at a fancy restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful commenters: @BlackBeautyQueen33, @MagnusBaneIsEverithing, @jinxie86, @Verunka, @g, @Tan, @luucyqueen, @CorvusCloudburst, @codenamepenguin, and @Vallier!

They are skipping the family dinner _again_ tonight.

Magnus has been trying to ask him about it all afternoon, since his fake boyfriend broached the idea while they were cleaning up after the snowball fight, but Alec has insisted on it being a surprise. Once it gets dark, Magnus dresses in the bathroom.

He thinks about Alec a lot and it slows his progress in getting ready. It was the way the young man had looked at him during their snowball fight. There had been a spark in his eye, a smile on his lips. Magnus loves to see him happy and carefree. It’s such a rare sight. He can’t wait to get a free second with his journal.

Once he is ready, he takes a breath, fixes his jacket from the lapels. It is patterned red and black. His shirt is black too, and his jeans, but the silver necklace hanging over his dark shirt and the metal-twined belt around his waist match his earrings and his rings and the buckles on his boots. He has flicked his eyeliner at the corners and powdered red eyeshadow upon his eyelids. It sparkles under the artificial light.

When he opens the bathroom door, Alec looks up, already dressed. His breath catches audibly and, honestly, Magnus is ready to gasp at him too. Alec’s shirt is indigo with silver squared buttons, his jacket black and fitted above it. He’s still in jeans, but they’re dark and clean and the shoes they end in are polished black.

Alec gapes at him. His mouth simply hangs open, trembling as he closes it with an audible click of his teeth.

“You…” he begins, swallows hard. “You look…”

“Please,” Magnus says and waves him off dismissively. He wanders over to absently fix the collar of Alec’s shirt where it is stuck up a little over his jacket. “You scrub up pretty good yourself… Very handsome all dressed up like this.”

Alec swallows again and a notable flush rises in his cheeks. Magnus takes his hand away. He figures that Alec doesn’t appreciate intimacy like that. The young man had made it very clear that they were friends and nothing more. “Thanks,” is all Alec says, clears his throat absently and quietly. “What I was trying to say is that… that you look nice… I like your jacket.”

Magnus smiles and smooths a hand down one lapel. “Thank you, Alexander… It is one of my best.”

Apparently, Alec doesn’t know what to say to that. He glances to the side, to the door. “Shall we go?”

“Ready when you are.”

Alec opens every door for him on the way there. Magnus would find that endearing if this was a date. Which is isn’t. The bedroom door opened before him, then the main door to the lodge, and, after a ten-minute walk down into town, the restaurant door. Alec is the perfect gentleman.

The restaurant is all candles and chandeliers, and walls painted red and gold. Magnus recognises a five-star place when he sees one, having accompanied his father to many a dinner during the ending of his art years. A man with a fitted suit and infuriatingly good posture shows them to a table. In the centre of the cedarwood table, there is a lit candle encircled in roses.

“Oh, Alexander, you’re spoiling me,” Magnus teases as they sit and Alec gives him a chiding look over the top of the menu he takes in his hand.

“Least I could do considering all you’re doing for me,” is all he says, however, and Magnus can’t help but angle his head a little to the side. Alec glances up to him, frowns softly. “What?”

“You, Alec Lightwood, are a puzzle.”

Alec scoffs softly, shrugs one shoulder. “Is that bad?”

“No,” Magnus says. “It’s just nice to see different sides to you.”

They skip starters and opt to order their main courses. Their waitress is a buxom young girl with honey curls who smiles infectiously and speaks almost perfect English. She blushes softly through a giggle when Magnus compliments her in French on her fluency.

“ _You will make your boyfriend jealous,_ ” she warns in her mother tongue.

“ _He doesn’t understand French,_ ” Magnus replies. “ _But he has no reason to be jealous. You’re a beautiful girl and your English is outstanding, but I love him very much_.”

When she’s gone, Alec asks what they were talking about, but Magnus just waves him off, insisting it was nothing to concern himself with.

The service is quick and efficient and they barely have enough time to get into conversation before they are being served their dinners—Alec with braised pork and pearl onions and Magnus with ratatouille. Magnus is relieved to find that the food is befitting of a five-star establishment. Sometimes it’s a gamble ordering ratatouille, but this one is beautifully done.

“Is it okay?” Alec asks from across the table.

Magnus nods, swallows his current mouthful. “It’s wonderful, and yours?”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

Magnus tilts his head. Alec is awful at concealing the truth. His mouth twitches and his eyes are shunted down to his plate. “As riveting as that very brief conversation was… do you want to say something to me?”

Alec pouts like a child. “It’s nothing,” he says, not at all convincingly. “I just… I feel weird about having dinner with you. I know it was my idea, but I didn’t expect it to feel so…”

“… intimate?” Magnus prompts and Alec nods shortly. Clearly, someone isn’t feeling incredibly talkative this evening. “It doesn’t have to be weird. We’re friends. This is apparently your way of saying thank you for me accompanying you on this trip. As needless as your gratitude is, it’s nice of you to do this… Having a meal together can be completely platonic.”

Alec shifts a piece of meat around on his plate with his probing fork. “I don’t know anything about romance,” he says with a soft shrug. “I’ve never really had a proper friend before… Guess everything just kind of… mixes together in my head. I don’t know anything.”

Humming softly, Magnus places his fork down to give Alec his full attention. “Well, here’s something to add to your head: you’ve done a nice thing tonight. It’s not a romantic thing necessarily even if it could have been. We aren’t dating and I know you don’t want to, so this is a beautiful, strictly platonic evening.”

Something about that makes Alec look at him finally, but strangely. There is a soft furrow to his brow and Magnus worries now that he’s said something wrong.

“What is it?” Magnus asks gently.

“I said that I didn’t want to date you,” Alec mutters, but it isn’t accusatory. It’s as if he’s remembering his own words.

Magnus nods. “If I’m remembering correctly, yes.”

Alec swallows hard and rakes a hand up into his hair, putting his fork down. “I’ve fucked up tonight, haven’t I? You don’t wanna remember the shit I pulled when we met. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Hey,” Magnus says firmly, reaching across the table to take his hand because it feels as though Alec is about to get up and leave. “I don’t care about what you did. You were coming from a place of uncertainty and shame, and it wasn’t you. I’ve seen the real you, Alexander. Over these past few weeks, the past few days even, you’ve shown me who you are… and who you are is a good man.”

A jolting swallow moves Alec’s throat and his eyes glimmer strangely as he looks down at their joined hands. Magnus blinks hard as he realises that Alec is verging on tears. This night is absolutely not going well.

“Did I ever tell you about my first painting experience?” he asks abruptly, slowly taking his hand away from Alec’s.

The young man across from him blinks slowly, as if resetting, and lifts his head to Magnus again. “No,” he admits. “I don’t remember hearing that one.”

“Oh, I’ve clearly neglected you then. Picture the scene: I was fourteen and recently adopted by my dad.”

He proceeds to tell Alec how, by simply dropping a bottle of paint, he had managed to squirt almost the entire lot in his dad’s face. It was a hilarious sequence of Magnus stepping on it in his haste to pick it up at the exact same time Ragnor leaned down to get it.

By the end, Alec is smiling at him again.

“His entire face was green, you should’ve seen it. God, and it got all in his hair and under his nails for weeks. He had to auction off one of his art pieces the next day and he was just standing up there with bright green streaks in his hair.”

Alec chuckles, shakes his head. “You were always a bit of a menace, huh?”

“Please,” Magnus says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s a gift.”

He leaves out the part where he had broken down in tears, panicking because a mistake like that would have gotten him beaten by his stepfather. He leaves out Ragnor having to comfort him. Despite everything, it was still a happy memory. Ragnor had touched his cheek and left green paint on his face and neither one of them had cared because Ragnor wasn’t angry with him. He was _kind_.

It had been such an unfamiliar emotion to Magnus. In that moment, he had vowed to make kindness one of his main traits. He wanted to be just like Ragnor.

The mood has lightened considerably when they finish their dinner and their waitress comes to take their empty plates. She is back within mere seconds.

“Can I interest you two in some dessert?” she asks, the soft French trill coming through in her voice. “We have many desserts very popular with couples if you want to share something.”

Alec blinks his surprise, glancing across to Magnus, who just gives him a soft smirk. He looks down innocently, absently scanning the menu. It is for Alec to decide how far they’re taking this candlelit dinner. “I don’t know. What do you think, babe? You want dessert?”

Magnus glances up, smiles at him and his use of a pet name. Alec’s expression sobers a little, like he realises what he’s done. From his tone, it was clearly just meant to get his attention, but Magnus is taking it as permission. “I suppose I could manage something, angel. How do you feel about the trio of desserts? It’ll be _menage à trois_. It’s the one at the bottom.”

Looking to the menu, Alec scans the option. “I—I can’t read that.”

“Oh, it’s strawberry mousse cake, lemon tart, and chocolate timbale, which is basically just a mini chocolate muffin,” says Magnus, leaning across the table to point at each in turn.

He needs to make more of an effort to remember that Alec doesn’t know French. He supposes that it’s forgettable because it’s just strange to him for someone to spend so much time in a country and not know a word of the language. He tends to get caught up on languages too easily. Not everyone is like him, however.

Alec nods. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Wonderful,” the waitress says.

As soon as she is gone, Alec leans across the table with a frown. “’Angel’? Are you kidding?”

“You started it,” Magnus says, “’babe’.”

“Okay,” Alec utters, half chiding, half fond.

They share dessert from the same plate. Magnus laughs at all of Alec’s dry quips about their week so far. The young law student apparently hasn’t been impressed with his family’s attitude. Magnus himself thinks it could have been a lot worse. They’ve managed to avoid the older Lightwood’s for the entire day today as well as most of yesterday. All in all, it hasn’t been a bad start to the trip.

Not for Magnus anyway. Alec hasn’t talked a lot about his family. His relationship with his brother has been especially tense, so it’s good to see him smiling now. It’s always good to see him smile.

Magnus has big plans for his journal tonight. He may actually fill up the rest of it at this rate. Alec has given him so much good sketching material. His smile is gorgeous and infectious and Magnus can’t wait to immortalise it on paper.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The walk back to the lodge is disrupted with an unexpected sighting. Magnus reveals more of his past to Alec, and has a surprisingly amiable conversation with Maryse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my recent commenters: @PhoenixStar73, @Vallier, @ValkyrieNyght, @BlackBeautyQueen33, @codenamepenguin, @MagnusBaneIsEverithing, @LavenderCottage, and @Tan
> 
> Constructive criticism only please. I just delete hate comments at this point and never mention them in the beginning notes, but I will disable anonymous commenting if it gets worse (which I don’t want to do because it isn’t fair to other guests). Once again (and I should NOT have to say this), if you don’t like it, don’t read it!

The walk back to the lodge is filled with a comfortable quiet. It is colder now than when they left for the restaurant, the skies darker and speckled with stars. The air clouds in front of Magnus’s face when he exhales, disappearing into the night. Snow crunches softly beneath their feet as they trudge back up the hill.

“Thank you,” Magnus says, breaks the soft silence, “for tonight. I had a good time.”

“Yeah,” Alec says, swallows so hard that Magnus can see his throat bob. “Yeah, me too.”

Magnus smiles softly at him, turns his attention back to the ground, watching his step in the snow. Despite his caution, the edge of the pavement is buried from sight and he catches his foot on it, stumbling forward. Alec grabs his waist, strong fingers curling into his hips to hold him.

“Hey, steady. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Magnus says, touching Alec’s arm in gratitude. “Clumsy. Sorry.”

“Can’t imagine you clumsy.”

Magnus’s brow jumps slightly at that, half impressed by Alec’s casual compliment. He’s getting better at that kind of thing. The pet name at the restaurant is proof enough of that. Alec clears his throat, releasing Magnus’s waist and taking a measured step back.

Magnus knows he should feel nothing, but he can’t stop his heart from sinking a little or his mind from whispering to him: _he doesn’t want you._

He needs to stop getting his hopes up. Alec has made it perfectly clear—from the moment they met he made it clear—that he doesn’t want to date Magnus. It’s understandable that he isn’t ready considering all that he’s been through with his repressed sexuality and his forced outing to his family. Magnus would never think to pressure him into a relationship. That wouldn’t be right.

They walk in silence for mere seconds before Alec is stopping again. “Shit,” Alec utters, turning to Magnus, and crowding him back a little, so he practically has his back to the wall of a nearby building. “Kiss me.”

“What—?”

“Now!”

Magnus does so, wraps a hand in Alec’s lapel and drags him to his lips, kisses him close-lipped and lingering. Alec’s lips are warm against his own. Alec keeps him there a minute before pushing him back. They are still close enough that it wouldn’t look hostile to anyone passing.

“Cheek kiss, Magnus,” he utters, absently touching his lips. “Cheek.”

“Well you didn’t exactly specify,” Magnus hisses in turn. “What was that for anyway?”

Alec tilts his head sharply to the side and Magnus looks to see Maryse and Robert Lightwood. They have their backs to them, walking away down the road, but each casts a furtive glance to the pair. Alec's mother tilts her head a little, practically staring at them. Her husband pulls her sharply along. Magnus breathes out his realisation.

“Right,” he says, looks back to Alec. “Public displays of affection. Always good to divert attention. Sorry about the, uh… lips. I didn’t know—”

“It’s fine. Just unexpected.” Alec wipes a distracted thumb to his mouth, glances up to the lodge. “We should get back.”

He is quiet for the rest of the walk. Magnus regrets kissing him so fully; and if that doesn’t scare Alec away, Magnus has plenty more that will. For all that he has told Alec about himself, there is still so much left unsaid. Alec may not be ready for a relationship, but Magnus couldn’t hold that against him when he wasn’t ready to share all of himself.

He hasn’t told Alec all the details of his past, of his childhood in Indonesia, of his mother’s death or what his stepfather did to him afterwards. Alec will surely shun him if he knows everything. Magnus doesn’t want to lose whatever it is that they have just yet. Sometimes Alec tries to push him for information, but he always eases off when he realises that Magnus doesn’t want to talk.

They are quiet tonight, however, walking to the lodge in a slightly more awkward silence than before. When they get to the room, Magnus sits cross-legged at the end of the bed and sketches in his journal while Alec sits against the headboard reading from a worn, dog-eared copy of _Dune_.

Somehow it feels strange to be sitting apart like teenagers whose parents told them to leave the door open. Magnus doesn’t know if it would feel more natural if they were sat together. For now, he just focuses on his sketches, on how Alec had looked when he smiled.

He fills an entire page with studies of Alec’s smiling face.

“You mutter when you sketch, you know that?”

Magnus lifts his head, stares at the young man. “What…?”

“When you sketch,” Alec says, accentuating his words, “you mutter. I don’t know what language you’re speaking, but you’re definitely saying something.”

Shaking his head, Magnus tucks his pencil behind his ear. “I’m sorry; it’s probably Indonesian. My dad complains about my muttering too. It’s an unconscious thing. Sometimes I talk in my sleep too. Have you… heard me do that yet?” Alec hesitates a moment and Magnus’s heart drops to his stomach. “Oh, I—I’m sorry. I can sleep somewhere else.”

Alec snorts softly. “Where are you gonna sleep? In the bathtub? No, Magnus, it’s fine, you just…” He shrugs and takes a breath. “Sometimes you talk about your mom…”

Turning his head away, a soft sigh breathes out from Magnus’s lips and he takes the pencil from behind his ear, twirls it between his fingers. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I dream about her a lot… It hasn’t been as bad here; I think it’s because—” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Alec folds the corner of his page and places his book on the bedside table. “What is it?” Magnus doesn’t respond for a long moment, his mind warring and insisting that Alec will think him insane. “You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is…”

“My mother’s things are back in Brooklyn,” says Magnus abruptly, just wanting to get it out. “And she always used to say that spirits are tied to objects and I think… Sometimes I can sense her with me. My therapist said it can be normal, but he always tried to make it about science…” He rakes a hand into his hair. “I think it doesn’t feel like she’s here because I have less of her things with me.”

There’s a slight tilt to Alec’s head and he shifts forward a little on the bed. “Does that bother you?”

Magnus blinks hard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… being cut off from her,” Alec says and his eyes are full of sympathy. “It must be weird. She’s your mom. She loved you.”

“Alec,” Magnus utters, “I know you mean well, but I’m not sure that’s true.” Alec frowns in confusion. “My mama—” Magnus begins and closes his eyes at the old term “—she was very sick, Alec. Towards the end, she could barely recognise me.” He pauses a moment. “It got really bad… When I look back on it now, I have to doubt whether she ever loved me.”

Blinking hard, Alec shakes his head. “She was your mom, Magnus, of course she did.”

A soft sigh breaks his lips and Magnus ducks his gaze. “Alec, when I say ‘it got bad’, I mean that…” He wants to sigh again, but it will just make the entire situation seem more forlorn and if there is one thing he hates, it’s being pitied. Alec deserves the truth, however. “There were times when she would just get so confused and she would get scared and lash out… For a kid, it was… it was confusing for me too. I didn’t understand a lot of it.”

He shakily unbuttons the cuff of one of his sleeves. Alec watches as he pulls it up over his forearm. In his peripheral, Magnus sees his eyes widen in shock. He purposefully doesn’t look at the young man.

The scars are almost normal to him now. They are old and faded and he never gained another once he was adopted by Ragnor, but his love didn’t make the others disappear. They are from his childhood in Indonesia, from his stepfather and, when she got really bad—

“My mother,” he says in explanation, running an absent hand over the thick, yet faded line over his arm. “She came at me with a knife.”

“Magnus,” Alec breathes out, touching his wrist. “God, I… I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He shakes his head. “Why would she do that? She was your mom.”

Magnus shakes his head. “She was very sick, Alec. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know what she was doing.”

Alec lifts hazel eyes to Magnus’s face, a soft pinch to his brow. “Why are you telling me this?” he asks, lowering his hand from Magnus’s wrist.

“Because you deserve +to know who you’re sharing a bed with,” says Magnus, breathing out slowly and combing his hair back with his fingers. “Alec, I’m… I’m very secretive about my life before my dad adopted me. I didn’t tell you about it because I don’t tell _anyone_ about it. I… I still haven’t told you everything.”

“Hey,” Alec utters, “you don’t know everything about me either. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me everything right away, we can just get to know each other over time like normal people.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I—I mean provided we’re staying… friends… after this trip’s over.”

Magnus softly narrows his eyes. “Yes,” he says, his voice hushed and gentle to counter Alec’s anxiety. “Of course we’ll still be friends.”

Alec is quiet a moment before leaning back, clearing his throat subtly, and pushing a hand through his tousled hair. Magnus tries to ignore how endearing that is. “Uh, I’m gonna… I’m gonna get ready for bed. Do you need anything before I—?”

“No, Alexander, no, don’t you worry about me,” Magnus dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “I’m not tired, so I’m going to go for a walk. I’ll come back in quietly so I won’t wake you up.”

Alec tries to argue it again, but Magnus won’t have it. He waves Alec off, bids him goodnight and takes his jacket to leave the room, planning on taking a walk through the town below. He doesn’t make it further than the balcony at the end of the hall. It’s spacious and the floor of it is salted and free of snow even if the handrail is topped with it.

The town glows below him, warm orange light pouring out of every window. Mountains rise up all around the valley, moonlight bouncing off the snow-capped peaks. The world sings and Magnus sighs.

His breath mists in the cold air and he watches it disappear up into a sky full of stars. He smiles softly, watching them twinkle, so clear. There’s nothing like this back in Brooklyn; the light pollution is so bad in the city that Magnus can barely see even the brightest of stars most nights.

An owl hoots somewhere in the distance and Magnus leans his forearms against the balcony, freshly fallen snow crushing beneath the sleeves of his jacket. He closes his eyes. His mind goes to Alec.

So often now, he finds his thoughts are consumed with the young man, his image and his voice, his very being crowding Magnus’s mind. Alec always pulls away before they get too couple-y. Even tonight, his excuse of going to sleep seemed abrupt and out of place and Magnus has to consider that it might just be him that Alec wants to escape from. Maybe he needs to ease off.

The way he had described them is lingering in his memory, however. His use of ‘friends’, so hesitant, like he was unsure if that’s what they were. In a spurt of hope, Magnus thinks that Alec’s hesitation might mean he thinks they’re _more_ than friends. It isn’t so. It can’t be. Alec doesn’t want him. Magnus just needs to accept that.

“Hello?”

Magnus jumps a little at the unexpected voice, turning to see a figure walking out from the darkness of the lodge. “Mrs. Lightwood?”

“Oh, hello,” the woman greets quietly, wandering out fully onto the balcony. She wears a dressing gown over plaid pyjamas, wraps it tight around herself as she comes to stand by Magnus. She looks... homely, almost. “What are you doing out here? Aren’t you cold?”

“A little,” admits Magnus. “I have trouble sleeping.”

Alec’s mother—Magnus knows her name is Maryse—gives him a cautious little smile. “My son snores, doesn’t he?”

Magnus laughs aloud, simply because the humour is so unexpected. From how Alec had described his mother, Magnus had expected more of her husband’s nature: judgemental, prestigious, impossible to please. She was hostile upon their arrival, when seeing him for the first time. She wouldn’t even hug her son. Magnus sees none of that in her now. He sees a mom rather than a mother.

She cants her head at him, a hint of anxiety in her eyes. “What kind of trouble?” she asks and she genuinely seems interested. “I’m a bit of an insomniac myself… I find a bit of a walk, some fresh air, a nice cup of tea can do wonders. All three of which I’ve done tonight... It wouldn't hurt for you to try.”

Magnus smiles down at the snow, sighing silently into the night. “I’m afraid it’s not so simple for me. It’s my medication keeping me up.”

There was a moment of silence then. “Medication?”

“Anti-depressants,” explains Magnus concisely, prepared for her to shun him. “Helps control my… Well, I—I have PTSD. I’m sorry, but I don’t really feel like talking about it.”

“I understand… I’m sorry.”

They fall into a silence. Despite the ending comments, it isn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Maryse comes to lean against the railing beside him, following his distant gaze out to the mountain range, the wide sky stretching out above them. She isn't shying away from him. Magnus breathes a little deeper.

“I’m sorry I was cold towards you when you arrived here,” says Maryse, glances to him. Magnus turns, holds her gaze. “I thought you… I saw you as the reason Alec has been so distant from me lately. I was wrong. He has been distant, because he felt as though he couldn’t talk to me or tell me the truth. That’s my fault, I know that now. I should have made him feel more comfortable with talking about his… his sexuality.”

Magnus shakes his head. “It’s a difficult thing for many people… Even without family being openly disdainful of homosexuality, some people find it difficult simply out of fear of the reactions of their loved ones. Alec, he’s… he’s been scared for so long. It’s terrible that he didn’t get to choose when and how it came out, but at least he doesn’t have to hide anymore.”

Maryse swallows hard. “I’ve been awful to him.”

Magnus glances to her, pondering over whether or not the divulge the information Alec had given him. “I’ve heard… that it was more your husband… Jace sometimes too.”

“Alec tells you these things?”

Hesitating a moment, Magnus fidgets with his hands. “I… Yes, I think, once it was out, he just wanted to tell someone everything. Now that he could finally talk about it… I was just there.”

“He loves you,” says Maryse, startling Magnus a little, though he fought not to show it. “I can see it in his eyes, in the way he looks at you like… like nothing else matters. I’ve never seen him happier or more content.” She tilts her head at him. “It feels complicated though… things between you two.”

Magnus sighs slowly, stares out at the mountains. “We’re just finding out more about each other on this trip… Maybe it’s not all good.” He exhales again, half a sigh. He doesn't want to talk about this, not tonight. “I should try to get some sleep.”

“Of course,” Maryse says respectfully, stepping aside to let him go. “Magnus,” she calls after him, making him pause in the door and look back to her. “You shouldn’t worry about getting to know each other. Whatever happens, you can work through it if you’re stubborn enough and Alec is certainly that. I’ve never seen him like this before and… I think it’s a good thing. It’s like he’s… finally allowing himself to be happy.”

Magnus blinks hard, but doesn’t comment on that. He feels so much worse now about Alec’s life. Even his mother is admitting that her son isn’t happy. Perhaps his family are starting to understand how difficult it has been for Alec, how difficult they have made things for him when all they had to do was show a little kindness. It all could have been so easy.

Now, more than ever, Magnus is determined to bring a little more joy to Alec’s world.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus wakes the next morning to find Alec playing chess with his grandfather. Magnus has an unexpected conversation with Jace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to my commenters: @MagnusBaneIsEverithing, @BlackBeautyQueen33, @LavenderCottage, @jinxie86, @Vallier, and @codenamepenguin!

Magnus wakes late enough the next morning that Alec is already up and gone from the room.

Looking wearily to the alarm clock, Magnus startles to find that he’s slept right through breakfast. It’s been a long time since he slept through the dawn. His arm is draped over the pillow barricade; Magnus wonders if it was like that when Alec was here.

He pushes himself out of bed, dresses for the day in a purple shirt patterned with tiny gold diamonds, rolls the cuffs of his sleeves up to expose the pattern on the inside, golden geometric lines. Suspenders hang loose from his hips, black with gold buckles like his shoes. He forgoes a jacket—the lodge is warm enough that he needn’t bother—and does his makeup in black eyeliner with purple and gold eyeshadow. He repaints his nails in purple, adorns his jewellery as the paint dries, and heads downstairs.

The lodge is empty. Magnus wonders a moment if Alec has left for the slopes without him. Magnus wouldn’t mind. He could get some sketching done.

When he seeks a little, however, he finds Alec in the front room, sat opposite his grandfather. Between them is a chess board upon the coffee table, pieces dotted haphazardly across the board. A fire roars beneath the mantle. Magnus comes to lean over Alec’s shoulder to survey the board

The young man startles a little, looks behind him, but relaxes when he sees it’s Magnus. “Hey,” he greets, his eyes not-so-subtly roaming Magnus’s outfit. “Everyone else is going up to the slopes in a minute—even Nana’s going to watch. You were still asleep when I woke up, so I thought I’d better just leave you to it… Did you sleep alright?”

“I slept very well, thank you,” Magnus replies, marvelling at Alec’s considerate nature. He couldn’t help but notice that Alec was _not_ dressed for skiing and that he was halfway through a game. “You don’t want to join them?”

Alec shakes his head. “I thought I’d take a day off, if that’s okay. It's kind of tradition for us to play chess all day, but you can still head up if you want. Izzy will keep you company.”

“A day off sounds nice,” Magnus says, squints at the pieces gathered on either side of the board. Alec was apparently collecting the black ones and his grandfather the white. “How are you doing with your game? You look like you’re pretty evenly tied.”

Alec chuckles softly. “Oh, he’s going to thrash me, but there’s no change there.”

“Alec,” his grandfather chides, takes one of Alec’s pieces. Magnus fights to hide his shock at hearing the elder man’s voice.

“I know, ‘anything can happen until the king falls’,” says Alec, clearly quoting something his grandfather had said. He glances back to Magnus. “My grandfather used to compete in the Chess Championship. He was the national chess champion for five years running back in the seventies.”

“Wow, that’s really impressive,” says Magnus. “I hear it’s a pretty difficult game.”

Alec frowns, looks up at him. “Wait, have you not…?”

Magnus shrugs. “No, I’ve never played chess.” He smiles in soft confusion when Alec and his grandfather give him an almost identical look of slight shock. “What?”

“How have you not played chess?” Alec asks.

“Well, my dad and I don’t really do boardgames. We’re more of creative family rather than a strategic family.”

Alec’s grandfather looks at him strangely for a moment and Magnus is worried that he might disapprove. He and Alec are very different people. Alec is subdued and serious, and Magnus is flamboyant and fierce and he is almost certain that Alec’s grandfather is not thrilled with their relationship.

The elderly man is a man of few words. In fact, the only word Magnus has ever heard him say is ‘Alec’.

“I hear your father is a lecturer,” the old man says, watching Alec make a move on the board.

Magnus blinks in surprise, not only at Alec’s grandfather actually _speaking_ , but the fact that he is speaking to Magnus. “Yes, he specialises in drawing, sketching.”

“Clarissa was talking about him at dinner last night,” he says. Alec is watching his grandfather with fascination and Magnus gets the impression that he doesn’t hear the man talk a lot either. “She clearly thinks very highly of him. I expect you do too.”

“He’s my dad,” says Magnus simply.

“That doesn’t always mean he’s your hero.”

Alec looks back to Magnus, a soft pinch on his brow before he turns back to his grandfather. He looks as though he wants to speak. He doesn’t. The old man reaches to the board, moves a black piece.

“Check,” he says.

Magnus frowns at the board. “Does that mean you’ve lost?”

“No, it means he’s on the cusp of winning,” says Alec, surveys the board a moment before moving a white piece.

Magnus touches his shoulder. “Do you want a coffee?”

Alec looks back at him, his eyes soft. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” says Magnus, running a hand up through his hair. “I want to though, so I’ll take that as a yes?” Alec nods, thanks him quietly and Magnus looks to Alec’s grandfather. “Mr Trueblood?” The old man glances up at him with a soft frown. “Can I get you anything?”

He looks at Magnus strangely a moment. “Yes, please. I’ll just have a cup of tea. Milk, but no sugar… Thank you, Magnus.”

Magnus gives them a soft kind of smile, departing to the small alcove kitchen in the next room. It’s confusing to him why someone would need two kitchens. He supposes this one is for tea and coffee and suchlike and the other is for staff to make meals for the family. It still seems extravagant. Their alcove kitchen is bigger than the one Magnus has back home.

He takes two mugs from the cupboard, fills the kettle and puts it to boil. There is a sound from behind him when he is putting together the tea and coffee and he turns to see Jace stood there. He’s wearing his skiing gear, big padded coat and trousers, a bag slung across his shoulder. He has a strange look on his face, like he’s trying to figure Magnus out.

“Well, good morning,” Magnus says, turns back to stare at the kettle.

“Hey,” Jace utters, like he’d rather not acknowledge Magnus’s presence. “I need to talk to you.”

Magnus glances back at him. He has been expecting this for a while. “Oh?”

“About Alec,” says Jace, “and what your… intentions are with him.”

Blinking hard, Magnus turns his head to Jace. “My intentions,” he echoes, as blankly as he can, although he knows exactly what the young man is implying.

“Look, I know my brother, he’s sensitive,” Jace says, leaning forward to rest his hands upon the counter, turning his full attention to Magnus, who is honestly a little surprised that he’s being so upfront about it all. “You need to understand that I won’t ever let anyone hurt him.”

Magnus tilts his head. “Then we have that in common.” Jace frowns softly and Magnus gives him a knowing look. “You think I’d be here for just anyone? I’m doing this for him.”

Jace blinks hard, his gaze ducking a little, something close to realisation dawning in his eyes. “You love him.”

“Yes,” Magnus says without thinking, “and I know you love him too. I know you’re just looking out for him, but—and I imagine this is going to piss you off—you’re coming across as homophobic.”

“I don’t hate gays.”

Magnus tilts his head. “No, I think you just don’t understand people who don’t fit into whatever sense of ‘normal’ you’ve been taught. You think we’re different because of who we love, but we’re not. Alec hasn’t changed. You’ve just started seeing him… He’s still your brother and he still loves you… Maybe you should start affirming that you still love him too.”

There is a call from further away, one that Magnus recognises as Clary, and Jace glances back in the direction of the voice.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Magnus says plainly. “I know what you think of me because of my sexuality. Clary told you I was bisexual and you decided that I was a slut… It just means that I _can_ be attracted to men and women. It doesn’t mean I immediately want to have sex with everyone I see. Can you understand that?”

Jace works his jaw, thinks a long moment. “Clary said you’d fucked a lot of people.”

“I highly doubt those are the words she used,” says Magnus, knowing that Clary would have never told Jace such a thing. She may have mentioned some of his partners in passing, but she would never slut-shame him like that. “I love who I love, and I’ve always been a one soul at a time kind of guy.”

Jace’s brow furrows a little, clearly confused by that. “Soul?”

“Yes,” Magnus says, tired of hiding now. “Your brother shines so brightly and he won’t let anyone see it because your father has kept him in darkness… It isn’t fair. He needs your support now more than ever. Please, just try. That’s enough. It’s enough for you to just try.”

“Why are you talking like you know him better than me?” Jace asks, the hostility returning to his eyes.

“Because you can’t see him,” Magnus says, watching him calmly despite Jace’s clear aversion to him. “Because he was so afraid of your father that he was forced to hide himself for years.”

Jace’s brow furrows, perplexed. “Afraid? Why would he be afraid?”

Magnus blinks hard, realising suddenly why Jace is behaving like this. “You don’t know,” he utters, closes his mouth before he can say any more about Robert. “You need to have a real talk with your brother… You don’t have to like _me_ , but Alec is your brother. Please, try to consider what he’s going through. You and your family haven’t exactly been welcoming and you can’t argue with that.”

“He lied to me for months.”

“He was protecting himself,” says Magnus firmly. “You have no idea what he’s been struggling with. Even accepting his sexuality was…” He pauses, takes a breath. “You need to talk to him.”

He finishes making Alec’s coffee and Mr. Trueblood’s tea. Jace simply stares at him for a moment before he moves in Magnus’s peripheral. The next time Magnus looks around, the young man is gone. Breathing out slowly, Magnus takes the mug handles and wanders back to the front room.

He pushes Jace to the back of his mind. The two need to speak properly, but Magnus shouldn’t be in the middle of it all. This is a conversation that needs to be had on Alec’s terms. The best Magnus can do right now is make tea and coffee and try to keep as far away from the Lightwood family drama as he can. He’s fairly sure he makes it worse.

“Thanks,” Alec says as Magnus hands him his coffee.

“Thank you, Magnus,” says his grandfather, gazing up at him as he sets the tea down on the table beside the chess board. “You’re very kind.”

Magnus shakes his head. “It’s no trouble.”

Maybe it’s optimistic of him, but he feels as though things are improving with Alec’s family. Perhaps Jace will never trust him and perhaps Alec’s father will never truly accept his son’s sexuality, but Alec has his mother and his sister, his grandfather, who doesn’t seem to have any aversion to them. He even went as far as calling Magnus _kind_.

Perhaps that can be enough.

“Hey,” Alec says and Magnus shakes himself from his thoughts. The young man is looking up at him, a soft furrow to his brow. “Are you okay?”

Magnus nods, gives him a smile that he hopes is reassuring. “I’m fine,” he says and he might even believe it. “Everything’s fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about late updates recently. Motivation for this story is really hit and miss right now and I often find myself asking what I'm even trying to say anymore. Hoping to hit my second (but actually third or fourth) wind very soon.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec tries to teach Magnus how to play chess. The two make the most of the others being away and go out into the garden to build snowmen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my recent commenters: @Verunka, @BlackBeautyQueen33, @Nowherebloom, @jinxie86, @LavenderCottage, @MagnusBaneIsEverithing, @Adaline_Blooms, @Vallier, @PhoenixStar73, @June hodge, @codenamepenguin, and @Tan. Really appreciate hearing your thoughts and kind words!

Magnus frowns at the board, hesitantly reaching out and picking a piece, placing it forward two paces. He can see Alec’s lips twitch in his peripheral and he glances up across the board.

“What?” he asks, smiling when Alec gives him that sheepish look.

“Uh, you’ve just made it really easy for me to take your rook and it’s a pretty useful piece, so…”

“Oh, you mean this one that looks like a castle?” Magnus asks, points to the piece he just moved.

Alec nods. “Yeah, it’s called a rook and you’ve put it right in the path of my bishop.” He points to a pointy white piece. “So, I’m going to grab that.”

Magnus chuckles softly as Alec slides his bishop forward, claiming Magnus’s rook and dropping it off beside his steadily growing pile of claimed black pieces. He has come to realise that Alec is absolutely ruthless when it comes to games or anything remotely competitive. When he had offered to teach Magnus to play chess, he should’ve known that the learning curve would be incredibly steep.

“Alec,” the young man’s grandfather chides him softly.

He sits to Alec’s side on the sofa. Magnus is in an armchair, the coffee table at an angle between them, holding the chess board. There is a look on his face, a chiding that Magnus recognises from his grandson. They look so alike. The familiarity is strange somehow. Magnus can’t place it.

Alec looks to his grandfather, obviously still unused to being spoken to by the elder man. “This is how mom taught me.”

“Because it’s how I taught her,” says the old man, gazing wistfully at the board. “Your parents have such a heavy hand in how you develop…” He trails and his brow furrows softly.

Magnus heart weighs in his chest, recognising that look all too well from his past, from his mother. She would look like that so often, would stop halfway through a thought if it felt too distressing. “Mr. Trueblood?” he says gently and the man looks to him, his eyes distant and a little sad. He looks eerily like Alec in that moment; if Alec was fifty or sixty years older. “Can I get you another cup of tea?”

Alec’s grandfather shakes his head. “No, I think… I think I’m going to take a nap.”

He pushes a hand against the sofa cushion, stands falteringly and Magnus shoots to his feet as the old man stumbles and hits the table. Black and white chess pieces spill across the checked board. Magnus cups his wrist in one hand, the other pressed low on his back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Alec’s grandfather apologises fervently. “Your game—”

“Don’t worry about the game,” Magnus soothes, casts him a gentle smile. “He’s thrashing me anyway and we do not want to see me when I lose.” The elder man still seems distressed, his brow furrowed. “How about I help you to your room and you can get some rest, okay?”

“I… Yes, I think that would be best… Thank you, Magnus.”

Alec offers his help but the old man waves him away. Apparently, Alec knows better than to argue. Magnus takes Alec’s grandfather upstairs to his bedroom. The stairs are a bit of a struggle for him; he leans heavily against Magnus. When he’s settled on edge of the bed, the old man stares at Magnus a moment, his eyes somewhat lost.

“Can I get you anything?” Magnus asks.

Alec’s grandfather looks at him strangely. “You don’t care what anything thinks of you, do you…? It’s a wonderful quality. My wife was the same…” He smiles absently. “You remind me of her… Alec’s a lucky man.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Magnus says, casting him a soft smile. “Sleep for a bit, alright? We’ll be around the lodge in you need anything.”

“Thank you, Magnus…”

Magnus gives him a short nod, a soft smile, and leaves the room. On instinct, he leaves the door ajar, pauses a few paces away and goes back to close it silently. It isn’t the same; he doesn’t have to leave the door open in fear that his mother will believe she is trapped. This is Alec’s grandfather. It’s different.

Alec is knelt beside the coffee table, placing the chess pieces back in their respective places when he returns to the front room, but he looks up when Magnus comes close.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Magnus says. “A bit confused. It’s to be expected… If you don’t mind me asking, when did your grandmother die?”

Alec’s eyes narrow, thoughtful a moment. “I’m not sure. I was really young, maybe just five or six?”

Magnus hums, reclaims his place in the armchair on the side of the board rowed with black pieces. He stares at the black and white checks, at the newly set pieces, repositioned at either end of the board. Alec doesn’t take the place opposite him. He sits back on his heels, stares at Magnus until the young man turns and meets his gaze.

“What?” he asks.

“He reminds you of your mother, doesn’t he…? That’s why you’re upset.”

Magnus’s jaw twitches, pushing a black chess piece forward a little too forcefully. “Very perceptive of you, Alexander.”

Alec reaches forward to grab his hand, stilling it over the chess board. “Hey,” he says, and Magnus looks to his face, to the gentleness in his gaze. “It’s okay to be sad. Don’t shut me out… You can talk to me if you need to.” He shrugs one shoulder. “If you don’t, then that’s okay too.”

Magnus pushes the heel of a palm to his eyes, breathes out slowly. “I just… That look in his eyes…” He trails, shakes his head and turns his face away from Alec.

“It’s okay,” Alec says, apparently sensing that he’d rather not speak of it. He looks to the board, gently pushing the black piece back into place. “Sorry. White goes first.”

“Ah, there’s a surprise,” Magnus chuckles weakly, gazing up at him when he stands. “Thank you… for understanding.”

“I’ve known you for months. I think I can recognise your emotions well enough by now.”

Magnus doesn’t respond to that. He simply nods to the board. “A wise man once told me that white goes first.”

Alec chuckles and moves a piece… and promptly thrashes him in mere minutes. Ruthless he may be, he is also instructive, patient with Magnus and his inability to wrap his head around the game. He points out a different direction Magnus could have taken on every move, but he never puts them back. He simply claims them and moves on.

There are no second chances with Alec Lightwood.

“Again?” he asks as he is sweeping Magnus’s fallen soldiers back to his side of the board.

“I think my army has been thoroughly defeated,” Magnus says with a soft laugh. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Alec echoes, lifts his gaze to Magnus, smiles softly, shyly almost. “Do you, uh… Do you want to make the most of the lack of people?”

Magnus tilts his head. “Well, what exactly did you have in mind?”

* * *

“How’re you doing over there, Mags?”

“You call me ‘Mags’ one more time and you’ll find out exactly how I’m doing because it’ll be thrown over your head!”

Alec just laughs and, despite the nickname, Magnus has to smile.

The snow is soft, freshly fallen and still falling, and it breaks apart in Magnus’s hands when he collects a handful to pat onto his snow sculpture. Snow _men_ Alec had insisted, but Magnus preferred to dub his a sculpture because it was decidedly not a man. He is building a cat of sorts, a feline of snow that he carved out with his hands and his fingers.

It had been so long since he’d carved out of _anything_ and the feeling of moulding something beneath his hands again is so wonderful. The cold doesn’t even bother him at this point. His fingers are red and numb, but he doesn’t care. He needs his hands free and gloveless if he is to sculpt properly.

The chill air smells like pine and the trees rustle when the wind blows through them. Magnus tips his head back to stare at the soft grey clouds blooming above them, smiling softly when snowflakes fall and get stuck in his lashes. The snow is so beautiful. This lodge and its surroundings are gorgeous. It’s a shame that Alec feels the place is so haunted.

“Magnus,” Alec gasps behind him and Magnus glances back, frowns softly. Alec’s eyes are wide and wondrous and Magnus pushes himself to his feet, stepping back to stand beside him. “It’s amazing.”

Magnus follows his gaze to the cat, tilting his head to see that it is done, that he needn’t do much else. He always did that, he worked at things too long and too needlessly. Alec has stopped him this time. Magnus is grateful for it. His fingers hurt when he rubs then together.

“You know this wasn’t a contest, right?”

Magnus nods. “I know, I’m sorry. I got caught up in it.” He grabs Alec’s hand. “Show me yours.”

The young man obliges, letting Magnus pull him forward so they can admire Alec’s snowman. It is classic, three spheres of snow placed atop one another. Its arms are branches, its eyes and mouth pinecones.

“Go on,” Alec offers, prising his hand from Magnus’s and gesturing it to his masterpiece. “Judge away. Don’t hold back.”

“It looks like you tried to make a jack-o’-lantern snowman,” Magnus says, grinning when Alec chuckles.

“Wow, you really didn’t hold back, huh?”

Magnus pointed to the gaping maw of the snowman’s mouth and its rows of pinecone teeth. “Alec, look at that! It’s terrifying!”

“Yeah, okay, looking at it from an outside view, I suppose it is kinda creepy.” Alec chuckles and shakes his head, looks to Magnus’s cat. “So, yours is an Egyptian god and mine is a child’s fever dream.”

Magnus chuckles softly, shakes his head. “I think Egyptian god is a little far.”

“I’ve been to museums, Magnus. I know how Egyptians valued their cats and I know how they were depicted. Lean, elegant, looks like it could either rip your throat out or see into your soul. You’ve captured all that in _snow_.” He looks to Magnus, a playful spark to his eyes. “I realise I kinda just described you.”

Magnus raises a brow at him. “You think I could rip your throat out?”

Shaking his head, Alec ducks his gaze a little, a soft huff of amusement exhaling from his nose. “Maybe without that part.” His playfulness turns to concern as his dropped gaze fixes on something and he grabs Magnus’s hands, cradling his cold-flushed fingertips in gloved palms. “Were you not wearing gloves this whole time? Aren’t you cold?”

“I was focused on sculpting,” Magnus says. “I lose myself in it. I didn’t realise how cold my hands were until I stopped.”

“Let’s get you inside,” utters Alec, tugging on his hands and Magnus obeys under his insistent touch. “We can get a fire going. I’ll make you a tea or something. You’ll be warm again in no time.”

“Alec, stop,” Magnus says gently, shaking his head when the young man looks to him in confusion, but does as he is told. “Why are you doing this? Why are you… being kind to me?”

Alec huffs softly. “Why am I being _kind_ to you?” he echoes, incredulous. “Magnus, you agreed to endure a week of my homophobic father and my idiot brother and _me_ for Gods sake. _Me_. I am not proud of what I did when we first met, but, despite that, you still agreed to be here with me. How could I not be kind to you after that?”

Magnus shakes his head. “It’s different. You’re… taking care of me.”

“If you’ll let me.”

Alec’s body heat was seeping through his gloves, tingling Magnus’s numbing fingers. It hurts, but it’s a good pain. “Okay,” he utters, lifts his gaze to Alec. A playful jilt touches Magnus eyes and his voice. “Okay, Alexander, let’s see what you’ve got.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus and Alec settle down for a quiet afternoon together. An almost-moment leaves them wondering: can either of them truly deny their desires?  
> Jace and Alec work to rekindle their brotherhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I am so sorry I've been taking so long to update this one - things have been super hectic and I've had to prioritise with syncing updates for 'A Prince of Gold and Glass' and whenever I have time to write my inspiration is only coming for 'Take On The World' and this one has just been pushed to the back a little.
> 
> Anyway, even more now, thank you so, SO much to my recent commenters: @Vallier, @BlackBeautyQueen33, @jinxie86, @codenamepenguin, @LavenderCottage, and @MagnusBaneIsEverithing! Without you, who knows if I would ever find the motivation to keep going with this one. Your kind words mean so much to me, so thank you all.

A fire crackles in the hearth and the flames hiss and jump when Alec shifts the logs with a metal poker. It’s a heavy, gilded thing forged in patterns of twisted vines, the handle a cluster of metal leaves. Alec can’t see the point in such splendour when all it really needed to be was a metal rod.

He supposes he has started to see a lot of things that way. Magnus brings out that side of him; that decent, unselfish side that recognises what he has and what he doesn’t need.

“Well, you’d certainly serve me well in the wild.”

Alec casts a smile back over his shoulder at Magnus. He is practically lost beneath a blanket that Alec dug from the downstairs closet, soft, white wool on the downside and knitted red on the out. It’s amusing, almost, to see him all bundled up on the sofa, cradling a mug of tea in his hands. Aromatic steam rises to his face, gives his cheeks a pink flush.

Alec imagines it differently for a moment. He imagines the two of them, in a cosy little cabin atop of forested hill. It would be a quaint place, small and quiet and _theirs_. The fire would light and warm them. They would sit together on the sofa, wrapped up in that blanket, simply contented in one another’s company, watching the flames dance in the hearth.

He shakes it away, closing his eyes briefly and standing, placing the poker back in its stand and turning on Magnus with a smile. “How are you doing?” he asks, coming to crouch in front of him, fingertips barely touching the back of his hand. “You feel a bit warmer. Do you want another blanket?”

“Oh, no, Alexander, anything more and I’ll overheat,” Magnus chuckles, pats the sofa beside him. “Come here. Talk to me.”

Alec hums his intrigue, but does as he is told. “What’d you want to talk about?”

“About why you’ve had a sudden surge of energy for spending time with me,” Magnus says, looks to him with those knowing eyes. “First you treat me to dinner and you teach me chess and take me out to build snowmen. Now you’re coddling me like a child with a cold… What changed, Alec? You were… unreceptive before.”

Alec inhales deeply, palms the nape of his neck. “Do you remember the night before last? We went to Abrielle’s, you had a nightmare… you told me about your mother.”

“I remember,” Magnus says, a little abruptly, and Alec elects to be gentler.

Alec ducks his gaze. “You kissed my hand,” he murmurs, turns his hand over on his lap, stares at the back of it. “I know you’re just like that. I know it didn’t mean anything, but it was… chivalrous, but it made me feel… wanted. I think that’s when it changed.”

“Chivalrous,” Magnus chuckles softly, shakes his head. “Well, if that’s how you want to put it, then I certainly have no objections.”

Alec shakes his head, breathes out slow and silent. “Magnus, I don’t have a lot of friends—or any friends, actually. Even when I was a kid, I didn’t have any. I…” He pauses, purses his lips in consideration. “I was boring.”

Magnus _laughs_ at him. Alec stares at the curve of his mouth, the crinkle of his eyes, the spark in gold irises. “Alec Lightwood,” says Magnus, grinning at him. “Please allow me to put your mind at ease. You are not boring.” He tilts his head. “You caught _my_ eye, remember? I don’t take just anyone into a bathroom.”

“I’m not that person,” Alec protests, despairing that Magnus might still think of him in that way.

A soft shake of Magnus’s head gives him all the reassurance he needs. “Oh, Alexander, I know you’re not. I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to dredge up the past. I only meant… You’re anything but dull.”

Alec purses his lips in thought. “Magnus, I can’t…”

He trails, thinking over what Ragnor had warned him. He had begged Alec not to act unless he was _sure_. The truth is, Alec isn’t sure. That’s the whole problem. He doesn’t know if he is in love with Magnus or if he is simply unused to having someone be kind to him. He can’t tell the difference between what is romantic and what is platonic; both of which he is woefully inexperienced in.

“What is it?” Magnus asks and his voice comes so gentle that it almost startles Alec into just admitting the truth right then and there.

_I can’t tell if I’m in love with you._

“It’s nothing,” says Alec, forcing back the lump in his throat, forcing himself to smile. “It’s not important.”

Magnus tilts his head. “You know… most of the time, when people say ‘it’s not important’, they usually mean that it’s very important to them, just that they don’t think it’s worth other people’s attention.”

“Well, this isn’t one of those times,” Alec says, forces a chuckle. “It’s just… me saying how it is. There’s no secret message behind this one.”

Magnus doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push either. Alec purses his lips in thought.

“You want to watch a film or something?” he asks, and gets up at Magnus’s nod. The cabinet below the TV is a little scarce on the DVDs, but people don’t usually watch anything so there was little need for them in the past. Alec crouches there in front of it. “There’s not a lot of options.”

“Whatever you want,” Magnus murmurs and Alec glances back to see him snuggling down in the blanket, his eyes closing comfortably.

Alec smiles softly, turning back to the cabinet to idly pick out a copy of _The Truman Show_ and sticks it into the DVD player. Magnus chuckles as Alec comes back to the sofa with the remote, clicks the play button.

“Well that’s a turn, isn’t it?”

“What?” Alec asks, looks to him.

Magnus gives him a meaningful kind of glance. “ _The Truman Show_. All about being true to yourself and seeking out your own reality… Truman almost dies to discover what is real because that’s better for him than living a lie.”

Alec swallows hard. “If you’re trying to make connections between me and this film—”

“Oh, there’s no trying about it,” Magnus teases softly. “You’ve lived a lie most of your life… I’ve watched you break free of it.”

“The truth wasn’t my choice,” Alec says, breathes out slowly and points to the TV playing out the opening credits. “I like this film because he made a choice. He was brave… The kind of brave I wish I could be… the kind of brave I know I’m not.”

Magnus shakes his head, shifts close and leans up against Alec’s shoulder. “I think you’re braver than you realise… I hope you can see that one day.”

Alec can’t move, let alone think to reply. Magnus’s head is on his shoulder, resting in the crook of his neck, and he’s falling asleep—Alec can feel him growing heavier at his side. It’s the medication at work, messing up his sleep schedule. Alec stays completely still, afraid of waking him when he knows how desperately Magnus needs to sleep.

Of course, Magnus’s wellbeing is his first thought, but it’s that and the fact that Magnus thinks he’s _brave_. Alec isn’t brave. Alec is the exact opposite of brave. He sheltered his truth like a coward because he feared the reaction from his family. Even now, the truth wouldn’t be out if it weren’t for Magnus and Jace, and Alec’s own actions that night in the club.

Magnus sleeps through most of the film, which Alec is grateful for, thinking only of his health. His limbs ache from being so tense for so long, but it doesn’t matter. It’s more bearable than when Magnus’s breaths start to come quicker.

It’s barely noticeable at first and Alec doesn’t pay it much attention. Then Magnus’s fingers clench hard into the blanket and his head shifts against Alec’s shoulder, and Alec begins to realise that his breathing just isn’t _normal_ anymore.

“Magnus,” he says, trying to turn in a way that allows him to see but doesn’t startle his fake boyfriend into wakefulness. “Magnus, hey…”

Magnus’s head almost smacks him in the face when he startles upright and Alec just about has the reflexes to grab his arms through the blanket before Magnus can get himself all tangled up.

“It’s a dream; you were dreaming,” he says quickly, holding Magnus hard until that wild panic eases from his eyes. He loosens his grip then, holds his hands up in a submissive stance.

Magnus drops his head back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. Bejewelled fingers run shakily through his hair, breathing out slowly.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises and Alec shakes his head, lowers his hands.

“You don’t have to say that.”

Magnus lifts his head, gives Alec a side-eyed look, like he didn’t quite believe him. “You shouldn’t have to deal with my… with _me_. I usually wait a while into any relationship before I let people see me like this.” He leans forward, buries his face in his hands. “You’ve been thrown in the deep end here, Alexander.”

“Hey, that’s okay,” Alec says, gently takes his shoulder. Magnus obeys under his touch, looks up at him and Alec swallows hard at those gold eyes. “I can swim.”

Magnus blinks softly, his eyes flitting down to Alec’s lips and back to his eyes quickly, like the action was involuntary. Alec might be sorely lacking in experience, but _that_ is a signal he understands. If only because he can’t help but do the same, he understands. He sets a hand to Magnus’s knee, just unsure of where it should go.

“Alec,” Magnus utters, barely a breath, and Alec is certain they are both leaning closer and Magnus’s eyelids are low and his lips part and catch the light and Alec’s heart is pounding like a drum and—

The front door swings open and Alec instinctively wrenches back, gluing his eyes to the TV. Magnus is still and silent beside him as someone enters the lodge at their backs. Neither of them turn to see who it is. Alec is honestly just focusing on trying to breathe.

 _Inches_. He was mere inches away from kissing Magnus. Now he might never get the chance again.

Somewhere in Alec’s mind, he has convinced himself—at some point in the last minute or so—that, if he could just kiss Magnus again, he might be able to figure everything out. Maybe he could be in love. It would be wonderful in itself to know that he was even capable of such a thing.

“Alec,” a voice calls to him and he turns his head to see his brother a good few foot away. Clary is disappearing upstairs, casting Alec a look over her shoulder as she goes, and Alec knows that whatever Jace is about to say to him is partly her doing. “Can we talk?”

Alec nods quickly, stubbornly avoiding Magnus’s eyes as he pushes himself from the sofa and follows his brother out onto the verandah. It’s cold out, but Alec can bear it a moment if it means that he and Jace may actually have a conversation. Jace scuffs his boot against the cold wooden deck. Alec is in his socks.

“You okay?” Alec asks when his brother doesn’t look at him, when he instead frowns down at the floor.

“Alec,” says Jace, tearing his gaze from his feet and lifting his eyes to Alec’s own. “Can you come to dinner tonight? I want—” He reconsiders, taking his time. “I’d like it if you and Magnus would sit with Clary and me tonight… if you want to.”

Alec regards him a long moment, trying to gauge whether this is his brother being ingenuous, or whether this is his girlfriend’s work. “I’d like that,” he says finally, deciding in the way Jace’s eyes light with relief that his brother really is trying.

“Great, I… I’ll see you then?”

Alec nods, watching after his brother as he turns to go back inside. “Jace?” he says, calls him back. He wraps decisive arms around Jace’s shoulders, pulls him into a tight hug. Whatever he has done, they are still brothers. Alec will always forgive him even if he doesn’t have the sense to apologise; they will always love one another. “You don’t have to like Magnus,” he says into Jace’s shoulder. “Just… give him a chance.”

“I’m sorry,” Jace whispers suddenly and Alec startles to hear the tears in his voice, startles to hear an _apology_ of all things. “Alec, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I was upset that you didn’t trust me enough to say anything. I didn’t mean to… I should never have told our father. I didn’t understand what it meant to tell him.”

Alec shakes his head, frowns because he had no idea that Jace was even aware of his predicament. He probably isn’t. He’s probably simply aware that their father is stubbornly homophobic. “It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not,” Jace insists, clenching a hand into Alec’s shirt. “I didn’t understand and I took my confusion out on you both. I—I still don’t really understand.”

“Jace…”

“You should hate me,” says Jace. “You should want to hurt me.”

Alec breathes out slowly, releases Jace from the hug and holds him by the shoulders. “I think I wanted to for a bit there… The things you were saying about Magnus… It wasn’t fair, Jace. You know that, right? He’s a good person.”

Jace nods, pushing a hand under his eyes. “I just… from what I heard about him, I—I assumed the worst because I was… I was angry that you didn’t tell me. We tell each other everything and then I saw you with him in the club and it’s like… it’s like I didn’t even know you anymore. I assumed you were having some kind of early mid-life crisis… What you were doing, it just felt so out-of-character for you.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t… that wasn’t my proudest moment,” says Alec, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was drunk and Magnus just… he was the first man to show real interest in me. Everything I wanted was suddenly right there in front of me and I… I wanted so badly for him to like me. I panicked. It wasn’t Magnus’s fault.”

Jace works his jaw a little in thought, lifting a hesitantly playful look to his brother. “So, you… lost your virginity in a club bathroom?”

Alec snorts. “Is it technically losing my virginity if it’s just, uh… oral?”

“Oh my god,” Jace chuckles, shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re as bad as Isabelle.”

“And you.”

Jace ducks his head. “Yeah,” he says, ashamed suddenly, all the amusement draining from his face. “It was… hypocritical of me to call him a… to say what I said about Magnus… I’ve never met a bisexual before… or a gay. A—A gay _person_. Uh… I don’t even know what to call you.”

“Gay will do,” says Alec with a slight smile. He shrugs one shoulder. “Besides, according to Magnus, one in three people are LGBT, so, you probably have met one without even knowing.” He huffs softly. “I guess someone had to be our family statistic. Might as well be me.” He lowers his gaze. “I thought you hated me… What changed your mind?”

Jace shakes his head, despair bright in his mismatched irises. “Alec, I never hated you,” he utters. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that, I just…” He shrugs one shoulder. “Clary talked some sense into me… Magnus too.”

Alec blinks hard. “You talked to Magnus?”

“Yeah, this morning,” Jace admits, seeming a little sheepish now. “I tried to warn him against screwing you over and he just… he flipped the whole thing back on me. Made me look at myself a little different.” He inhales a sharp breath, sighs it out slowly. “I’m not going to pretend to understand any of this… but I want to try. I owe you that much.”

Alec shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything.”

For a moment, his brother gives him a look like he’s unconvinced by Alec’s words, but it fades quickly in wake of a cautious smile. Alec wonders to himself what Jace could possibly think his debt is to him.

“See you at dinner?”

“Yeah,” Alec agrees quickly, like he’s worried Jace will change his mind if he hesitates. He pulls the blond in for another hug, unable to help himself. “See you at dinner. I’m looking forward to it.”

Jace smiles at him, a little more certain now, like he’s almost pleased with himself. They still have a ways to go, neither one can deny it, but even the longest journey starts with that single first step. Alec watches Jace leave, watches him bound up the stairs two at a time like a child, no doubt itching to tell his girlfriend of his success.

It’s a nice sight. Childhood seems a lifetime ago now.

Magnus is waiting for him back on the sofa. For his time with Jace, Alec had almost forgotten about their near-miss of a kiss, but now, meeting golden irises, it all comes flooding back. Heat creeps up his throat and Alec fights down flushed embarrassment as he reclaims his seat; albeit a little further away this time.

“Everything okay?” Magnus asks and Alec takes a moment to realise that he’s referring to his conversation with Jace and not their accidental almost-kiss.

“Yeah,” he says, pushing his desires to the back of his mind. He has more pressing focuses now. “Everything’s fine.”

This time, he thinks he really means it.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lightwood siblings, Clary, and Magnus spend an evening in each other's company. Alec and Magnus are thrust into a festively romantic situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thank you to my commenters on the last chapter @malecsnackariah, @LavenderCottage, @MagnusBaneIsEverithing, @Maryliz2121, @BlackBeautyQueen33, @jinxie86, @Adaline_Blooms, @Vallier, @lilboyblue, @codenamepenguin, @CrazyCandyCat, and @ARustySpork!
> 
> Whoops, I haven't updated in almost a month - eek! Sorry for the wait, I don't know if it's worth it, but it's something.

After their near-miss, Alec is more tentative towards him than ever. Magnus understands, of course, but it feels like the young man has regressed back to when they first met and Alec just doesn’t know what to say to him anymore. It’s a little sad, especially considering that just this morning Alec felt close enough to try and kiss him.

Alec shies away when he gets too close, ducks his head when Magnus says something even slightly untoward.

In the end, dinner is quiet. Alec had told him of Jace’s desire for them to dine together, of his effort to be okay with Alec’s sexuality and his relationship with Magnus, so—after all of that—Magnus supposes he had expected a little more conversation. In all honesty, Jace spends most of the time staring at his plate.

Clary fuels a lot of the conversation. Magnus does his best to assist her, but Alec is no help either. He and Jace simply don’t seem to know what to say to one another. It doesn’t help that Alec’s father is staring at them from the next table over. The look isn’t exactly approving. Magnus assumes that Jace is coming to the realisation that he may have to make a choice between his brother and his father.

Magnus sincerely hopes that he makes the right choice and picks his brother.

It’s an hour of Alec pushing pieces of beef around his plate and Magnus picking through his limp salad, Jace scowling at his plate and Clary flitting her gaze nervously between them all. Magnus looks to Alec, takes his hand and feels the young man twitch as if to pull away, restraining himself at the last minute. It’s instinct at this point to keep up the pretence.

Alec’s eyes meet his own and Magnus could swear that there’s an entire conversation in that look. All of Alec’s insecurities and worries seep through in his eyes and Magnus curls his fingers around the young man’s hand, holds him tightly, fighting to put just as much assurance as Alec had anxiety.

 _It’s okay_ , he tries to say with nothing but his eyes. _Jace will come around. Everything’s going to be alright_.

Perhaps it’s wishful thinking, but Magnus is fairly sure he sees Alec’s gaze soften a little.

“How’s your… dinner?” Alec asks and Magnus gives him a crooked smile.

“I preferred last night’s,” he admits and Alec huffs his amusement.

Jace looks between them. “What was last night?” he asks and Magnus senses a hint of hostility, but not nearly as much as there could have been. Maybe Jace is warming up to them after all. Confusion makes people lash out and prejudice takes time to overcome. Magnus knows they will have to be patient.

“Alec took me out to dinner,” Magnus replies through a smile. “A fancy little restaurant down the hill. I think your brother is secretly a romantic.”

Jace frowns at that, at Alec, and Magnus worries now that he has just made things worse. Jace already feels alienated from his brother. Magnus knows that he shouldn’t get involved, but it can’t be helped. It’s simply in his nature to be involved.

“Nice to hear he’s being a good… a good boyfriend,” Jace says finally. The word ‘boyfriend’ is hesitant, like he isn’t quite sure if it’s right. Magnus smiles at him to let him know it is.

Alec shrugs one shoulder, flushed at all the attention. “Well, let’s not oversell it.”

Magnus nudges him with an elbow. “Hush, don’t you _under_ sell it.”

Ducking his gaze, Alec casts him a small, sideways smile. It feels as though Alec is becoming more relaxed around him again. Perhaps their accidental nearly-kiss isn’t as big a deal as Magnus took it to be; Alec is taking it a lot better than he imagined. Maybe he’s the one who is underestimating Alec.

“Hey, uh,” Jace begins, his attention on his brother again, “I’ve asked Izzy to come hang out with us after dinner. We were gonna have the fire lit and just… I don’t know, listen to some music or something.”

Alec hesitates, looks to Magnus as if to gauge his reaction or his _permission_ , and Magnus gives him a small nod. “Okay,” Alec says, his eyes lingering on Magnus for a moment, his gaze flitting up and down his face before he turns back to his brother. Magnus elects not to dwell on it. “That sounds nice. Although, I’m pretty sure we could manage the fire ourselves.”

Jace blinks hard, a little taken aback by that. “Uh… okay?”

Alec seems pleased by that, leans against the back of his chair a little and looks to Magnus with a smile in his eyes and on his lips. Magnus tilts his head a little to show his awe, to show that he’s impressed with the young man’s determination to do things for himself. It doesn’t stop him from leaning in a few minutes later.

“Alec,” he murmurs, “do you know how to make a fire?”

A soft huff escapes Alec’s lips, a playful kind of light in his eyes. “How hard can it be?”

* * *

Surprising everyone—aside from Magnus, who of course expressed complete faith in him—Alec builds and lights the fire with next to no issues.

The others watch in stunned awe, staring at Alec as he piles up already cut logs, shoves bunched up newspaper in the gaps, strikes a match to light the paper and sending a tentative glow steadily brightening until a roaring fire sits under the mantle.

They are gathered together in the front room.

Jace is sat on one end of the sofa, Clary curled up against his side, both with mugs in hand. Magnus sits at the other end, Isabelle in an armchair beside him, her legs draped over the arm of the chair with her mug cradled in her lap. Alec crouches in front of the fireplace, giving it a satisfied look when the fire flares.

Jace frowns at him like he’s never seen Alec before in his life, but Isabelle gives him a soft round of applause and Magnus smiles when Alec comes to sit beside him, shifts himself closer to the arm of the sofa, as if to give his fake-boyfriend a little more space.

Alec’s arm drapes over the back of the sofa, rests across Magnus’s shoulders and pulls him in closer. He considers kissing Magnus right then and there, maybe just a soft peck to his temple or the side of his head. Maybe that simple action could be enough to muddle through his feelings.

“You want a coffee?” is all Alec asks, bailing at the last minute.

Shaking his head, Magnus exhales softly. “Oh, no thank you, I’ll be up all night.”

Alec tilts his head, thinks for a moment. “Hot chocolate?”

Magnus smiles at Alec’s persistence. It feels like they’re keeping score, taking it in turns to get the other hot drinks and Alec is determined to even the level. Magnus is smiling, so perhaps it’s a good thing. “Sounds perfect.”

“Coming right up,” Alec murmurs, gets up again and Magnus huffs like he’s annoyed.

Alec pauses at the back of the sofa, frowns anxiously that he might be irritating Magnus with constantly getting up and down. This could be his chance, however. This could be it. Deciding in his mind that he can dismiss it as playing the part of loving boyfriend if it’s badly received, Alec leans over the back of the sofa to kiss Magnus’s temple.

To his shock, Magnus leans into his kiss. Alec pulls away out of nothing but surprise, blinks hard as Magnus’s eyes meet his own, giving nothing away. The gold of his irises shines in the firelight. It might have taken Alec a moment to fully appreciate it, but Magnus truly was beautiful.

“Sorry,” he says abruptly, and then swallows hard, shakes his anxieties away. “I’ll settle down in a minute.”

Isabelle cooed softly, leaning to place her mug upon the coffee table. Alec shoots her an irritated look over his shoulder.

“You guys are cute,” she says, glances to Magnus. “God, imagine how hot your kids would be.”

Magnus chokes in shocked amusement and Alec grins down at the milk he’s mixing with chocolate powder at the hob—he feels as though he needs to put effort into this drink rather than just stick a pod in the machine. It’s special. He aches to look over his shoulder, but he can’t just stare at Magnus all night. He has to be content to listen to his fake-boyfriend’s dry humour.

“I can see several flaws with that. Uh, two gay guys aren’t conceiving a kid any time soon. I don’t think you should think either Alec or I are hot; one’s your brother and one’s your brother’s boyfriend. Also, I don’t think babies are generally considered to be _hot_.”

Alec hears Jace laughs and, honestly, he very nearly falls over. Jace is _laughing_ at Magnus’s jokes; not at Magnus himself, not cruelly. Maybe everyone can get along after all.

He pours the saucepan of hot chocolate into a purple and yellow polka-dot mug, turns back to the group to see Isabelle absently tap her feet against the sofa. “Your kids would be hot.”

She smiles as her attention is drawn to her brother’s return. Alec hands Magnus a steaming mug over his shoulder with a gentle “here you go”. Jace watches them out the corner of his eye. Alec does his best not to feel self-conscious under his x-ray gaze.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Magnus says, the pet name rolling off his tongue and it makes Alec cast him a chiding look, quickly suppressed as Isabelle looks his way. He sits down.

They have talked a little about dos and don’ts of their fake relationship. At the time, Alec had been adamantly against pet names. As they became more comfortable around one another, Alec had made the error of teasing him with ‘babe’ at the restaurant. He will forever remember the way that Magnus’s eyes lit up, a wicked kind of playfulness lighting that golden gaze.

The floodgates are open now, and Magnus is making the most of it.

“So,” Isabelle says slyly, grins softly. “How’s everyone’s week going? Mom has only talked shit about my clothes once like right at the start of the week, so that’s fun, but also way better than I was expecting.”

“I mean, come on, Izzy,” Jace begins, only to be sharply nudged in ribs by Clary, who shoots him a disapproving look. He shuts up after that. He might be learning after all—learning to obey Clary at any rate.

It will have to do for now.

“Pretty sure we’ve drawn some attention away from you,” Alec mutters, kicks his heel against the bottom of the sofa, takes a breath when Magnus slides a hand over his own, just resting there, just holding him.

Isabelle hums and leans forward a little, her arms wrapped around her knees. “Has it been… okay? I mean, they can’t have been overtly horrible.”

Alec thinks a moment, bites the inside of his cheek. “Better than expected, I guess… Still, Nana wasn’t exactly tactful.”

“She’s old,” Jace says in defence.

“That’s not an excuse to treat someone like shit,” Isabelle retorted. “They could’ve at least pretended to be supportive.”

Alec waved a hand. “Izzy, please,” he said, shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just… Let’s talk about something else, okay?” He glanced back to Clary, anxious to change the subject and, if he’s honest, taking a little after his parents with his lack of tact. “How many times did you fall over today?”

That got a snort of laughter from Jace at least and a wide-eyed look from Clary to her boyfriend. “Um, excuse me, _you_ said I did great!”

“I was trying to be nice,” Jace admitted through a regretful grimace. “Sorry, but watching you go down that hill was hilarious. Honestly, your face—”

Clary cuts him off with another protect and Alec sits back with a smirk, unthinkingly placing an arm over Magnus’s shoulders, simply because he didn’t know where else to put it. He glances to Magnus, anxious that he’s overstepped, but his fake-boyfriend just smiles softly, leans into his side, sips on his hot chocolate.

The rest of the evening passes amiably enough, filled with stories of each other’s week and laughter and dry remarks. Alec laughs more than he has in weeks. Isabelle spends a lot of the time staring at him, her eyes soft and fond and perhaps a little surprised. It’s a good kind of surprise, though.

Alec can’t remember the last time he laughed like this with his family around.

Jace does it too, watches him with slightly narrowed eyes, almost like he’s pleased to see Alec like this. He even catches Magnus looking at him more than once. Although, his fake-boyfriend doesn’t avert his gaze like Jace does when Alec catches him looking. Magnus just smiles, leans his head into Alec’s shoulder, like praise for him shedding his anxieties.

At one point, Magnus dozes on his shoulder and Alec gently takes the mug from his slack hands, anxious for Magnus to dream as he had before, worried what he might think of the others seeing him like that when he had been so averse to Alec witnessing it. Thankfully, Magnus doesn’t seem to sleep too deeply, simply dozes on and off, gives Alec some sleepy smiles when he comes back to consciousness.

Clary calls it first, half-asleep on Jace’s shoulder by the time her boyfriend asks if she’s tired.

Isabelle scoffs softly at that, simply because everyone else had noticed except him. Still, Jace leads Clary up to their room, bidding them all goodnight as they go. Alec hums softly and palms his tired eyes. He’s been gazing absently into the fire for the last few minutes, even though it’s nestled down to small flickers by this point.

“We should all get some sleep,” he muttered, rose to his feet and went to crouch before the fire.

There was a spray bottle of water there beside the fire pokers and Alec took it in hand.

“Alec,” Magnus said and Alec glanced back to see him rising to his feet. “You’ll want to spread out the ash first. Here.”

He came forward, taking a poker from the stand and leaning over Alec’s shoulder to push the pieces of charred wood and lumps of congealed ash out so it’s all more evenly spread. Alec waits until he’s finished, until he’s replaced the fire poker into the stand, before he sprays the fire down, watches the heat douse under the water.

Magnus holds out a hand and Alec looks up to him before he takes it, seeking confirmation that comes in a soft nod. Magnus helps him to his feet, keeps Alec’s eyes for a moment. Alec supposes he only notices because he does the same. The moonlight makes the gold in Magnus’s eyes glow darkly.

There’s a not-at-all inconspicuous cough from the side and Alec looks to see his sister grinning and pointing at the ceiling above them.

“Heads up.”

Both Alec and Magnus follow her finger. A sprig of mistletoe hangs from the ceiling above them, a ribbon of red silk tied in a bow around the stalk, berries shining like pearls between deep green leaves. Alec can feel the flush rising to his cheeks.

They haven’t kissed, not properly, since he had forced it back at Magnus’s apartment, and Magnus had pushed him away. It had been wrong of him to try and initiate it like that. He understands why Magnus doesn’t want to kiss him again. He shouldn’t have been thinking about it. It was wrong of him to want it.

There was that moment earlier this morning, however, those precious few seconds when Alec had been almost certain they were about to kiss. He can’t help but wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. He can’t help but crave Magnus’s lips.

His fake-boyfriend chuckles, the sound drawing Alec from his own mind. “Well, we’ve established that I’m not exactly up to date on tradition.”

“Okay, but _this_ tradition is the best tradition,” says Isabelle. “Come on, it’s cute.”

Magnus smiles coyly and—if Alec had believed him to be capable of blushing—he might be blushing. His eyes are low and cautious as they lift to Alec. Gold irises glow in the soft light. Alec tilts his head a little, trying to silently communicate that Magnus doesn’t have to do this. In response, Magnus’s eyes flit to his lips, back to his eyes.

Taking that as permission, Alec’s hands fall to his waist and Magnus blinks rapidly as Alec pulls him in close and kisses him.

Fireworks explode behind his closed eyes and Magnus’s lips are warm and soft beneath his own. They part instinctively, Alec’s following in turn. Magnus’s hands are clutched to either side of Alec’s neck. His mouth tastes like chocolate.

It feels different. It feels like the first time.

When their lips break, Alec struggles to open his eyes. When he does, he finds Magnus’s eyes are still closed too. They blink open slowly and Magnus averts his gaze for a moment, smiles softly. His eyes come back to Alec and a hand moves to his cheek.

“Well, you know how to make good on traditions.”

Alec breathes out slowly, letting the tension release from his tight chest. The softness of his gaze turns to a glare when his sister pats his shoulder, having stood from her chair and wandered forward to them.

“You guys are intense,” he says, ruffles Alec’s hair. “I’m gonna leave you to it, okay? Use protection.”

“Izzy,” Alec chides, but she just hums an absent tune and wanders away, disappearing out of sight.

As soon as she is gone, Magnus pulls away from him, trails an absent hand down his arm. “I’m sorry if that was awkward.”

Alec shakes his head. “No, it… it’s okay.” He shrugs softly. “It was… kind of nice.”

“’Kind of nice’?” Magnus echoes, his tone and his eyes full of amusement. “Why, Alexander… If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me.”

Alec huffs, elects not to challenge that, and glances back the way his sister had gone. “What’s she talking about protection for? It’s not like I can get you pregnant.”

Magnus blinks hard at that, like he’s surprised by Alec’s words. “Alec, you still need to wear a condom… to prevent STDs, you know?”

“O—Oh, right,” Alec says, feeling the flush rise in his cheeks, embarrassed by his lack of knowledge. God, Magnus must think he’s so stupid. “I didn’t really get the whole—” he clears his throat “—the sex talk… or the _gay_ sex talk anyway.”

Magnus lifts a hand to silence him. “It’s okay, I understand, but I think you should read up on it before you… get out there.”

A hard swallow almost chokes him, but Alec nods. “Yeah,” he agrees, because it’s easier than admitting that he doesn’t _want_ to ‘get out there’. He wants to stay here.

“ _My_ dad could give you the sex talk if you want.”

“Don’t push it,” Alec mutters, though he’s grateful for the lighter tone.

“No, I’m afraid ‘pushing it’ is one of the fundamentals of what you should be doing.”

“ _Magnus_.”

Magnus just laughs at him, his head tilting back a little from the force of it. “Oh, I’m sorry. I need to get the rest out of my system now that we have the serious stuff out of the way. So _bold_ of you to assume I’m a bottom by the way. Talking about getting me pregnant. You really think you’d be up to top anyone?”

Alec quirks his mouth in thought, choosing now to be bold. “I suppose I’ll have to find out.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their kiss under the mistletoe, Alec and Magnus both find themselves feeling more at ease together. They spend the morning in bed, the afternoon in the pool. That evening, Alec makes a proposition that reminds Magnus of his boldness and brings a new clarity to their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @malecsnackariah, @Vallier, @BlackBeautyQueen33. @CrazyCandyCat, @Maryliz2121, and @codenamepenguin for you comments on the last chapter!
> 
> WARNING for sexual content

Although the actual purpose of their vacation is supposed to be skiing, Magnus and Alec aren’t out on the slopes all that much anymore.

As much as Magnus enjoys boarding, seeing Alec’s smile up close and unobstructed is a sight like no other. It seems as though something has shifted in their relationship. That kiss under the mistletoe has clicked something into place. Alec doesn’t flush in embarrassment anymore. When a blush touches his cheeks, it’s pink and soft, like he is enamoured by things that Magnus did that just days ago would have embarrassed him.

The day after their kiss is spent strangely. There is an unspoken kind of relaxation between them now. In truth, they both let their guards down a little.

They spend the morning in bed. Magnus wakes at an almost normal time—after dawn even. Alec sleeps in almost until midday and Magnus sketches him, never lets the tip of his pencil leave the page the entire time. He needs to show different techniques. Sketching Alec over and over is no hardship for him, but it doesn’t show a great deal of range.

When Alec’s eyes open, the light hits them just right and makes the hazel glow like sunlight through the leaves. Kissing him would be too abrupt, no matter how much Magnus wants to—and how _almost_ sure he is that Alec likes him back. He feels like a high schooler again, thinking about who does or doesn’t like him.

“Good morning,” he settles on saying, and Alec smiles sleepily.

“Hey,” says Alec, reaching out to absently touch Magnus’s arm. Throwing it from his mind, dismissing it as Alec’s tiredness and nothing further, Magnus returns his smile, but doesn’t act upon the hand over his arm. In any other circumstance, he might lift his own hand to hold it.

Not now, however. Not with Alec.

Not yet, anyway.

“What’d you wanna do today?” Alec asks.

Magnus tilts his head. “Right now… I want you to stay still so I can finish this sketch…?” He poses it as a question to ensure he doesn’t sound too demanding.

Alec hums softly. “Of course,” he utters, sinks back into the pillows. “How’s this?”

“Perfect.”

Alec seems pleased by that. Magnus tries not to read into it.

The young man seems happy to stay put for him. Magnus can feel himself smiling as he draws, careful to ensure he doesn’t pick the pencil up, not even once. It’s such a habit for him to do long, careful strokes of the pencil, one at a time in quick succession. This elongated method is strange to him, but he’s happier with the results than he was expecting.

It doesn’t take long to finish his sketches and Magnus thanks Alec when he’s done. It is waved off with a soft flush of Alec’s cheeks and a slight undulation of his hand. Even now, Magnus likes making him blush.

They elect for the pool after that.

Magnus has decided it is one of his favourite places from the entire trip; although, Alec has given him a lot of contenders, what with the restaurant and the café, the sofa in the front room where they curled up together the night before, that spot in front of the fireplace where the mistletoe hangs above them.

The pool, however, is always exclusive to them. The others don’t venture down here.

“I always loved the water,” Magnus admits as he dangles his legs in over the edge. “When I was a kid… we lived close enough to the sea that you could hear the waves against the sand.”

Alec is quiet a moment beside him. Their hands are almost touching, both braced against the edge of the pool. “Do you miss it?”

It doesn’t take a lot of thought to respond.

“No.”

Alec looks at him, but Magnus sees it only in his peripheral. He’s staring at the water, at the blue lights below the surface, at the glow of the ripples as he slowly kicks his feet beneath the water. He doesn’t miss Indonesia, not even a little. Any good memories he managed to scrape together in his childhood were eclipsed by his mother’s death and everything that came after it.

It doesn’t matter that the ocean was a stone’s throw from their front door. It doesn’t matter that the language was and is beautiful and still Magnus’s native tongue. It doesn’t matter that his mother held him when the weather turned, sang to him over the storms.

The only thing that matters is that his mother killed herself, and his stepfather… well, what his stepfather did after her death would haunt Magnus until the day he died. It haunts him now, coming through in his dreams and his triggers and, despite how far they have come in such a short time, Magnus doesn’t know if he is ready to share that with Alec.

“Are you okay?” Alec asks gently. He doesn’t press or ask to know more.

Magnus lifts his gaze again, looks to Alec. “I’m alright,” he says. “I just… I got a bit lost for a minute there. I’m sorry.”

Alec shakes his head, closes a hand over Magnus’s own. “Don’t apologise.”

Magnus looks to him, breathes out softly, slowly. “Alec…”

“It’s okay,” Alec says before he can finish. He takes Magnus’s hand, pushing himself into the pool and sliding beneath the water up to his chest. His hand stays in Magnus’s the entire time, even when he backs up a little, stretching his arm out in order to keep their hands joined. “Come on… I’ll race you.”

Huffing in soft amusement, Magnus does as he is bid, sliding into the pool beside Alec and kicking off from the wall.

They spend the better part of the day in the pool, racing and diving (well, Magnus dived and Alec launched himself with a surprising amount of grace despite his lack of technique), splashing each other with water and just generally letting themselves have this time together.

They are due for dinner in barely an hour when Alec reluctantly decides that they should probably call it. Magnus has to admit, he likes the reluctance. He shares it.

Back in their room upstairs, Magnus goes to the closet, opening the door and perusing his outfits, considering what he might wear for dinner. It’s a little premature, but he knows that he takes longer than the average man to get ready. Alec lingers at the door and Magnus frowns softly, glances to him.

“You okay?” he asks, the furrow of his brow deepening when Alec scuffs his heel against the floor.

The anxiety is likely misplaced, but things have been different between them lately. Magnus thought that they were better now. He thought that Alec might have feelings for him; that kiss might have been unexpected and a little forced, but that kind of chemistry didn’t feel fake. Magnus doesn’t want to think he had imagined Alec’s enthusiasm.

“I was… I was thinking,” begins Alec, reaching a hand behind him to lock the door. “I was thinking… that… it’s a—a nice bed… and Clary and Jace are right next door and I haven’t heard them all week, so… so the walls are thick, and…”

“Alexander,” says Magnus, cutting off his ramblings, immediately sensing where this was going. Part of him is impressed by Alec’s boldness, but mostly he is just annoyed because he had thought Alec was different. “I don’t want to have sex with you.”

Alec blinks hard, frowns. “But—”

“Look, Alec, I’m not easy,” says Magnus, crossing his arms over his chest. “I won’t let you use me every time you want to. Despite what you might think, I was not put on this Earth to pleasure people.”

“Hey, I never said that!” argues Alec, striding over to stand before him.

Magnus slams the closet doors shut and turns, arches a brow at him. “Really? That’s not why you pulled me into that bathroom stall—because you heard I was easy? You wanted to test your sexuality and I was just there. I assume Clary told Jace about my past relationships and Jace told you at the club. I can imagine how twisted it became in your brother’s words.”

“I—I didn’t… I just—I thought—”

“I know what you thought,” says Magnus, “but I’m done pleasuring you and getting nothing in return. I will not be used.”

Alec swallows hard, reaching for Magnus’s hand. Despite everything, Magnus lets him take it. “Magnus, I… I never meant to hurt you. I know I did, and I know I can’t take it back, and the way I behaved will haunt me for as long as I live.” He lifts his gaze to lock with Magnus’s own, inhaling shakily. “I’m not asking to use you. I want to take care of you… I want you to show me what you like and what you need.”

“Alec—”

“I know that isn’t what you meant,” says Alec. “I know it’s not what you’re expecting from me, because you understand how this works. I don’t. I’m still learning. I need your help. I want… I want to please you… Will you help me? Tell me how.”

Magnus swallows hard. “Alec, despite how we started off… I don’t want you to think you owe me anything. I made my choices with you… This isn’t about keeping score.”

“I’m not,” says Alec, squeezes Magnus’s hand. “I’m making my choices too. I’m ready to give instead of take. I want this… if you do.”

Magnus stares at him a while. He rolls the dice. “Okay…” he utters, barely above a whisper.

“Are you sure?” Alec asks, as if he was expecting Magnus to keep fighting him. “We don’t have to… I just—”

Magnus lifts a hand to his mouth, presses a finger to his lips. The corner of his mouth curls up when Alec breaks into a smile and he replaces his finger with his lips, rising to his toes to kiss him. Alec leans into him, deepening their kiss, pulling Magnus in by the lapels of his jacket.

It’s incredible, to be ineloquent. They are both breathing hard by the time their lips break.

“You know, if we do this, we’ll miss dinner,” says Magnus, knowing how strict the Lightwood’s are about punctuality.

“I don’t care,” Alec replies breathlessly, pulling Magnus in once again. “It doesn’t matter.”

They stumble backwards to the bed, toeing their shoes off in the process. Alec almost trips, but Magnus catches his hips, laughs when Alec tries to kiss him through smiles.

As messy as it is, Alec is gentle this time, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of Magnus’s head, a knee between Magnus’s legs as he eases them onto the mattress. His hands pull at Magnus’s hips, one drifting to his belt, struggling to undo it with one hand.

Magnus arches beneath him slightly, but takes Alec’s wrist and guides his hand away. “Not yet,” he says, placing Alec’s hand to his waist. “Not right away. Take your time. Build up to it.”

Alec nods, obeys stringently. He straddles Magnus’s lap, kisses him slow and steady and he’s already improved so much since the first time they kissed. His affection moves slowly downward, undoing the buttons of Magnus’s shirt and leaving kisses in wake of the parted fabric. When the buttons are all unclasped, his hands smooth up and down Magnus’s sides, his lips working softly across the stretch of skin below his navel.

Magnus gasps at that, the area soft and sensitive, and Alec immediately lifts his head. “Is it okay? Do you want me to stop?”

Magnus shakes his head, a hand coming to comb through Alec’s hair. “It’s good,” he assures. “I like that. I’m sensitive there… The good kind of sensitive.”

Alec casts him a small smile. “Well, that’s good because your abs are amazing and I want to give them some attention.”

Magnus is almost sweating by the time Alec moves his attention lower to work his belt free. He spends so long with his mouth over that stretch of skin, licking and kissing, making Magnus moan and heave for air and clutch his hand into the dark locks atop Alec’s head. He kisses a line below Magnus’s narrow waistline, hauling his legs over his shoulders. Magnus lets him.

“You need to tell me if this is awful, okay?” Alec murmurs, his eyes low and his face flushed as he glances up to Magnus, his thumbs sliding under the waistband of his boxers. “Provided you still want me to.”

Magnus nods, rubs his thumb into Alec’s hair, his fingers still tangled in the locks. “I’ll be sure to give you plenty of feedback,” he says, a playful jilt to his voice and his head. “You want it written or oral? I can give you a grade at the end. I don’t know what system you use at that fancy university of yours—”

Alec ducks his head, licks into his navel and Magnus’s teasing lapses into a moan. Not many people can cut him off like that, and Magnus feels the rush of excitement and anticipation tighten his chest.

He is very vocal, just as he promised. Alec is inexperienced, but there’s a certain confidence to him that is incredibly alluring. When he’s too enthusiastic, Magnus tightens a hand into his hair, breathily tells him to stop, tells him what he’s doing wrong and how to fix it. Alec is a quick learner. Once he’s corrected on a mistake, he never makes it again.

He feels like an expert by the time Magnus’s hands clench into his hair, his thighs tight to Alec’s head. Magnus warns him, tries to pull away, but Alec stills him with one hand to his hip, swallows him down.

“Alexander…” Magnus whispers when the high is fading out and Alec collapses bodily beside him.

Alec lies on his side, kisses Magnus’s exposed shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “for letting me…”

Magnus huffs softly, still breathless and zips his jeans back up, redoing his belt. “Can’t believe _you’re_ thanking _me_ ,” he utters, shaking his head slowly and letting his head roll to face Alec, gently pushing him away from kissing. “Stop it. You’ve done plenty. Let me take care of you now, okay?”

Alec shakes his head. “No, I’m okay,” he says, shifts in a way that strongly points to him lying. “This was about you.”

Magnus regards him a long moment. “Fine,” he says finally. “At least let me kiss you.”

There is a brief moment of hesitation before Alec nods slowly. Magnus kisses him long and deep, encourages Alec to take care of himself since he is so averse to having Magnus please him again. Every time their lips break for Alec to breathe, Magnus tells him how beautiful he is, how perfect he looks right now, kisses his neck and throat.

Soon enough, Alec’s back is arching up off the mattress and Magnus kisses his neck through it, doesn’t stop until he relaxes again. Magnus watches absently as Alec pulls his pants back up, buttons his jeans. Honestly, Magnus half expects Alec to leave.

Alec just stares at him, lifts a hand to touch his arm, trailing down his bare skin. “What are we?” he asks eventually. Magnus shakes his head, having no answer for him. “I mean, we just… that’s not something friends do.”

Magnus smiles. “Maybe it’s something really, _really_ good friends do.”

Alec just frowns at him. “Is that what you want? For us to be… friends with benefits?”

Magnus’s gaze trails down, settling on Alec’s chest, and he absently lifts a hand to run the pad of his index fingers over Alec’s sternum. “No,” he admits. “I don’t think I want that. I think…” He sighs and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “You said before that you didn’t want to date me.”

“That was closet Alec.”

A huff of amusement leaves Magnus’s lips, glancing across to the young man. “And which Alec am I speaking to now?”

“Uh… out of the closet Alec? Gay Alec? I don’t know.” He swallows and his eyes are so big and round and innocent—an ironic thing for Magnus’s mind to label considering what just transpired in this bed. “My point is that I’ve changed. A lot and quickly. For the first time, I almost feel… okay with myself. I feel like… like all the lies have melted away and I just get to be… me.”

Closing his eyes briefly, Magnus thinks a moment about what he is going to say. It’s an important conversation. Alec is open and vulnerable.

“I want that for you,” he says finally. “I want you to be comfortable with being yourself. You deserve to be happy.”

Alec is quiet for a moment. “Do you think _we_ could be happy?”

Magnus props himself up on an elbow, gazes down at Alec. “What would that look like, Alec? You’ve seen the kind of reaction I bring. Your father, your brother—”

“Jace was just being overprotective,” says Alec. There is a soft pinch on his brow, worry creasing his expression. “You don’t want to date me, do you?”

“This isn’t about what I want.”

Alec’s frown only deepens. “How is this not about what you want, Magnus? If you want to date me, then tell me.”

Magnus looks to him, to this beautiful, confused young man at his side, and tilts his head softly. Alec is good to him, kind and apologetic and perhaps one of the best people Magnus has ever kissed—despite their rocky start. Maybe Magnus just doesn’t have a good history with his relationships.

“Alexander, I wanted to date you the first time we met,” he says, falls onto his back once more to gaze absently upwards, “and I’ve wanted to date you since… I just assumed that you didn’t want to date me. Considering how much has happened in such a short span of time… I suppose I thought you wouldn’t be ready for a relationship until you figured all of this stuff out with your family.”

Alec huffed and sat up, raked a hand through his mussed hair. “I’m tired of waiting. I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone like you and I manage to fuck it up in record time.”

“I wouldn’t say record time,” Magnus says, huffs in soft amusement. “You underestimate my track record for relationships.”

Alec makes a face, almost a grimace, and he clearly doesn’t need to hear about Magnus’s past lovers right now. It’s good, because Magnus doesn’t want to talk about it. Sitting up at his side, Magnus runs a gentle hand down Alec’s arm, drawing the hazel eyes to his face, bright and round with innocence.

“Maybe we shouldn’t put a label on… whatever we have just yet.”

There is a moment of quiet, of contemplation, and Alec nods. “Okay,” he agrees, his gaze absently darting down to Magnus’s lips, back to his eyes. “Am I allowed to… to act like we’re in a relationship even if it’s not official? Obviously I’ll always ask before I do anything, but…”

A soft smile curves Magnus’s lips and he ducks his gaze. “Yes, Alexander,” he utters his permission, taking a slow inhale, “under the condition that we start to communicate a lot better than we have been… You need to talk to me and tell me how you feel. Whatever happens next, promise that you’ll keep me updated with your feelings, okay?”

Alec blinks slowly, like a cat who’s just learned to trust. “I’ve… never had that before.”

“I know,” says Magnus, his voice clipped with sadness, “but now you have me… and, more than anything else, I need you to be honest.”

Alec nods, reaches across to place his hand over Magnus’s own. “I will,” he says and his eyes are soft and genuine. “I promise.”

Whatever they are, whatever they could ever be, Magnus believes him. When he needs to, Alec will talk to him. Perhaps Magnus could do the same. Maybe he could be ready now to show some of himself, of his past. When he looks into Alec’s eyes, he doesn’t see someone he has to hide from anymore. He sees someone who he could love.

More incredible than that, however, he sees someone who may yet love him in return.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their evening together, Alec offers to cook Magnus dinner. A mishap in the kitchen triggers a panic attack for Magnus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to @Verunka, @Vallier, @TheFaeryQueen, @Maryliz2121, @malecsnackariah, @BlackBeauty, @Adaline_Blooms, @Duchess, and @codenamepenguin for your comments on the last chapter! I won't promise that the end is in sight, but I DO know where I'm going now, so yay!!

Alec never fails to surprise him.

Everything he does seems to uncover a new side to him. His understanding had come through at the pool, letting Magnus keep his past to himself. His selflessness had come through in their intimacy tonight, putting Magnus’s needs before his own. Now, when he asks Magnus if he wants dinner and that _Alec_ will cook for him, it’s a whole new experience.

Magnus had a steep learning curve when he was adopted by Ragnor. Letting someone take care of him had been something he had to grow accustomed to after years of having to fend for himself. Ragnor was relentless with it however. Even small, seemingly insignificant things, like when he tripped and fell as a kid, grazed his knee. Magnus had tried to push him away, insist it didn’t matter, but Ragnor had sat him on the counter and cleaned the graze, smoothed a plaster over the injury.

It is a wildly vivid memory in Magnus’s mind. It marks the moment when he first realised that he didn’t need to be alone anymore, that Ragnor cared for him unconditionally and would do so as long as they lived.

Alec is like that in a way. Magnus is lucky enough to be surrounded by people who care for him and he feels so blessed to have people like his dad and Alec in his life.

It’s practically midnight when he and Alec sneak downstairs into the kitchen. In the end, they had missed dinner by a longshot. The rest of the lodge sleep in silence—even the staff have departed for their own homes. Alec ransacks the cupboards until he finds what he needs, which is really just vegetables, stock, a handful of spices, and rice.

Magnus smiles softly to himself as he watches Alec arrange the vegetables in a neat row, frowns at them like he’s trying to figure out if they go together. “Alexander,” he says, drawing Alec’s dark, round eyes to his face. “Do you want me to do it?”

“I can do it,” says Alec, indignant almost, but playful in his own way.

For a moment, there is stillness, silence. Magnus stares at Alec and Alec stares at his chosen ingredients. “Alexander,” says Magnus again, drawing the young man’s eyes back to his face. “Have you ever actually… cooked anything before? You kind of look like a deer caught in headlight.”

“I can cook!”

“Something that hasn’t come from a packet, I mean.”

A sheepish silence meets his words and Magnus can’t help but chuckle softly, grinning when Alec casts him a disapproving look. “Don’t mock me. I can do it.”

So, Magnus lets him. He grins to himself when Alec picks out a red pepper from his meticulous line, gently coaching Alec through how to cut it, when the young man pauses in confusion. Cooking is not a skill Alec has acquired apparently. Perhaps Magnus can remedy that, if given time.

Alec carves a few long strips of pepper a little shakily, like he isn’t sure exactly what he’s doing. Magnus keeps a close eye on him, which is why it has such an effect on him when Alec flinches back, dropping the knife with a clatter. Lifting a hand to suck at his cut finger, Alec casts Magnus a sheepish look.

In the logical part of his mind, Magnus knows he should help, that it’s just a cut, but that it could likely do with a plaster. All he can do is stare at the blade, the startling splash of crimson on metal, and he just freezes. Blood runs down Alec’s hand, a trail of red against pale skin.

Magnus stumbles, clutches the edge of the counter with one hand. He can’t breathe suddenly and a dark part of his mind screams that he is in danger and that this attack is going to kill him.

At that moment, he is not in a lodge with Alec. At that moment, he is nine years old again, in a jauntily built house in Indonesia. His mother is there. An ashen hand hangs from the side of the mattress, dark crimson in dim light dripping from limp fingers. Magnus opens his mouth to scream, but it comes in a breathless gasp.

“Magnus,” a voice says, echoes in his ears. Hands clutch him, pulling at him. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, okay? Focus on me. It’s gonna be okay.”

Magnus blinks hard, understanding coming back to him. He trembles as his hands come to Alec’s arms, clutching at him clumsily. “A—Alec...” he utters, his eyes faltering but not reaching Alec’s face.

“I’m right here. Tell me what you need.”

Magnus is shaking so badly that he almost can’t hear. “I... Sitting... breathing...”

“Okay, okay, just sit down here,” Alec says, kneeling with Magnus as he sinks to sit on the floor, keeping a shaky grasp on Alec’s arms. “There we go. Breathe slowly.”

Magnus closes his eyes, his chest shuddering as he tries and fails to follow the advice. “Alec...”

Footsteps approach hurriedly and Magnus shakily tries to lift his head, sees Alec’s mother in his tunnelling vision. “Can we help?” she asks Magnus, touching his arm gently, like she knows what’s wrong with him instinctively.

Magnus shakes from the effort of his gasping breaths. “I can’t... can’t get slow...”

Maryse wastes no time, taking Magnus’s hand and coaxing it to just below the join of her collarbones. “Breathe with me, okay?” she says, taking deep, noticeable breaths. “You feel me breathing? Match up your breaths with mine.” She glances to her son. “Keep talking to him.”

Alec swallows hard, shifting himself closer. “Magnus, you’re doing so well. I know it’s frightening, but it’ll pass soon... Focus on your breathing. Stay with me; listen to my voice.”

Magnus grabs him tighter with his free hand, staring up at him. He utters through his coping techniques in Indonesian, his eyes flitting across Alec’s face, taking in all his features. “ _Dark hair, hazel eyes, white skin,_ ” he utters, his mother-tongue rolling off easily.

“Magnus, I’m here.”

“ _He’s here._ _He’s here. He’s going to keep me safe. He’s not going to leave._ ”

“Magnus, calm down. It’s okay. You’re in the lodge. You’re with me. You don’t have to talk, just breathe.”

Maryse is steady and solid and Magnus follows her lead, follows Alec’s advice. He breathes slowly, deeply, matching Alec’s mother breath for breath. As the panic subsides, as it empties from his heart and his mind, he is filled back up with shame. He’s still gasping a little, anxiety sharp in his mind.

“Magnus,” Alec says and he sounds worried and Magnus hates it.

“ _I’m fine_ ,” he responds, though it’s weaker than he would have liked.

Alec shook his head. “Magnus, I—I’m sorry, but I can’t understand you.”

Realising suddenly that he was still stuck in Indonesian, that Alec couldn’t speak the language of his home, Magnus forced himself to swallow, to switch his language. “I’m fine,” he repeated, though in English this time. He perceived that it wasn’t fair of him to be speaking Indonesian when he knew Alec couldn’t understand it. “I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Alec murmurs and the way he says it is so simple and his eyes are narrowed in a soft kind of anxiety. “Can you stand?”

Magnus nodded on instinct, not even considering the question. Alec gently took his arm and Magnus held him in turn, grounding himself on Alec’s touch, on Alec’s scent. It was in half-consciousness that he leaned close to Alec, turning his face to his neck. The inhale came deeply for the first time in what seemed like hours and Magnus released it as a slow sigh.

Alec gets him to the sofa, murmurs something that Magnus doesn’t quite catch, but he is too embarrassed to ask the young man to repeat it. So, he lets it slide, clenches his hands into fists in his lap. He can hear Alec talking behind him. He does his best to focus on the words.

“… don’t know, I’ve never seen this happen before.”

“Alec, he’s had a panic attack.” That is Mrs. Lightwood’s voice. Maryse. She sounds more concerned than anything. “He said he has medication. Has he been taking it? Do you know?”

“I… I don’t know,” admits Alec and Magnus closes his eyes, braces his hands to the nape of his neck as he ducks his head. “I don’t know. We don’t… We don’t talk about that. He doesn’t like talking about it.”

There is quiet for a moment and Maryse lowers her voice so that Magnus can’t hear her even if he wants to. He isn’t sure he wants to anymore. He doesn’t like that people talk about him. He had heard all the gossiping at school when he was younger and, even now, he knows his classmates talk about him sometimes.

He had hoped that Alec might be the exception. So far, he is.

“ _Magnus_ ,” a voice murmurs and Magnus digs his nails into the back of his neck, not hard enough to bleed, just hard enough to hurt and likely mark him a little. It isn’t real. He knows that. The voice in his head is not one that actually exists anymore. A hand gently closes around his wrist, the sofa cushion dipping beside him. “Magnus, hey, stop, please. It’s okay.” Shakily lifting his head, Magnus’s eyes lock onto Alec’s face. “It’s okay.”

“I…” Magnus begins, taking his hands away from his neck. “Sorry, I… I thought I heard someone else.”

Alec shakes his head, holds his hands out like an offering. Magnus takes them. “It’s okay,” he says, squeezes Magnus’s hands. “It’s just me.” He glances back to a mug on the table. “I made you a hot chocolate. You think you can manage it?”

Magnus frowns softly, quick to smooth his expression in fear that Alec would question him. It’s unlikely to be the case, but it feels like Alec has had a google search of ‘what to do after a panic attack’. Magnus only assumes that because a lot of his friends have admitted to him that they’d done the same when they found out about his mental health.

A hot drink is usually Magnus’s go-to. It’s grounding to have the taste of chocolate and the heat of the drink in his mouth and the touch of the mug on his lips and in his hands, the weight of it, the warmth of it against his skin. So, he disentangles his hands from Alec’s own, reaches forward to take the mug and lifts it to drink.

When he swallows, lowers the mug to his lap, Alec cradles the back on his head, hand sliding down to skim his fingertips over the nape of Magnus’s neck, like he can erase the damage done there. “Will you talk to me?” he asks softly. “It doesn’t have to be tonight, but… please. I need to know you’re okay.”

Magnus turns to him, leans his head to Alec’s shoulder, breathes him in. “I’m okay,” he says, and maybe he means it. “I’m okay, Alec.”

Alec doesn’t seem convinced and, honestly, Magnus doesn’t blame him. He is dwelling on his attack, on what triggered it. His mother’s death hasn’t crept into his triggers for some time now and he hates that it had to be now that it chose to rise. It was the blood. That was all.

He is finishing the hot chocolate and Alec is talking to him and Magnus only half-registers what he is saying. He nods when he needs to, shakes his head too. Alec waves his mother away, assuring her that they’ll be alright. Magnus is grateful for that, to have Alec minimise who gets to see him like this. Maryse had been a help at the time, but Magnus will thank her later.

For now, Alec leads him to their room, supports him up the stairs until Magnus leans away from him, murmurs his gratitude, but assures the young man that he can manage alone. Back in their room, they fall into the usual night-time routine. Alec gives Magnus the bedroom, taking his pyjamas into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

It seems redundant almost. Just hours ago, they had been far more intimate than simply seeing one another dressing or undressing. Magnus is too tired to argue with it, however. He simply discards his clothes to the floor, slips into his pyjamas and climbs into bed.

There is a light tap on the bathroom door a few seconds later. “Magnus…?”

“It’s fine. Come in.”

The bathroom door opens and Alec steps out, dressed down in boxers and a loose-fitting t-shirt and Magnus can’t even bring himself to be moved by it. Alec feels comfortable enough around him to forgo the pyjama bottoms. Magnus wonders if this is how he sleeps when he’s alone. Usually, he would make some quip, some innuendo that would get him rolled eyes or a light blush, but, now, he says nothing.

Alec shoves his clothes into the laundry, pauses when he sees Magnus’s on the floor beside the wardrobe. Magnus rolls over in the bed, turning away from the sight. It takes longer than it should for Alec to climb into bed beside him. The pillow barricade isn’t built. Neither of them wish it.

“Magnus,” Alec begins, lifting his gaze to Magnus’s own. “I know this isn’t the right time, but I need to say this now or I’ll never have the courage to say it…” He takes a deep breath, and Magnus frowns at him, concerned with where this is going. “I think… I think I—”

Magnus touches Alec’s lips with his fingertips. It isn’t time. He isn’t ready and neither is Alec, despite what he may think. “Don’t,” he says simply.

“Why?” Alec murmurs when Magnus drops his hand back onto the bed.

“Alexander,” Magnus utters, fighting to smooth the sympathetic tone of his voice into something more neutral. Alec doesn’t seem like a man who would appreciate being pitied. “You don’t know me. If you did… I don’t think you’d even want to be my friend, let alone anything further.”

“Why don’t you let me decide that for myself?” Alec asks and he sounds indignant regardless of Magnus’s efforts. “If this is about your attacks, then you need to know that they aren’t going to put me off. I’m not a child, Magnus. I can make my own decisions.”

Magnus says nothing to that, closes his eyes and sighs deeply. “Go to sleep, Alec,” he murmurs, rolling over so he can face the other way, turning his back to Alec in the process.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” Alec asks.

“Please,” says Magnus and Alec falls silent behind him. “Please, just… not tonight, Alec. I’m too tired.”

The silence is awful. There is a soft click and the light is smothered into blackness. Magnus turns his head, burying his face halfway into the pillows. He has ruined it. Alec won’t be able to deal with him, with Magnus pushing him away or refusing to hear his confessions. It can’t be. Magnus isn’t designed for happiness in the long-term.

Perhaps he should have let Alec go when he had the chance.

The mattress shifts below him and a hand falls into his hair, gently pushing it back. “Can I kiss you?”

Magnus swallows hard. “If you want.”

Alec breathes out slowly, something Magnus perceives as disappointment, but he moves and his lips skim Magnus’s temple just so lightly. “Goodnight, Magnus… I hope you sleep well.”

He means it.

Magnus can hear it in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, knowing in his heart that Alec deserves his trust. “I don’t mean to shut you out. I thought I was getting better at seeking comfort when I needed it, but…”

“Hey,” says Alec and Magnus looks back to him in the darkness. He can only just make out Alec’s silhouette. “You don’t have to ask, okay? Just… How about, when you need me, you just take my hand? You don’t have to say anything. You don’t even have to look at me. I’ll know.”

Magnus chuckles weakly, swallows hard when it comes too close to tears. “I can’t find you in the dark.”

Alec takes pause at that. Magnus does too. It’s bordering on something too real, using double-meanings to try and articulate has always been an issue for him. Not many people can grasp them. Sometimes Magnus doesn’t even understand them, even when he is the one to speak.

“I’m always here,” Alec mutters and his hand comes to Magnus’s shoulder, stroking down with his fingertips to find Magnus’s hand, holding him tight. “I’m here, okay? I know it’s hard to ask for help, but just… try not to push me away.”

Magnus can’t bring himself to reply to that. Alec doesn’t push him. He keeps hold of Magnus’s hand, rolls onto his back, holds heir joined hands there against his abdomen. Magnus can feel him breathing. It’s a good feeling, a good grounding. Alec’s skin is warm on his own and his touch is firm and unbroken and Magnus can feel the movement when he breathes.

Rolling to his side, Magnus curls up against Alec, resting his head over his collarbone and inhaling deeply, just breathing him in. Alec’s free arm comes around Magnus’s shoulders, holds him close, and it may be the best possible calming technique that Magnus has ever experienced.

For the first time in months, he falls asleep with ease.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after his panic attack, Magnus is understandably on-edge. Alec commits an invasion of privacy that has Magnus rethinking his choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my recent commenters: @Adaline_Blooms, @codenamepenguin, @mimi39, @Maryliz2121, @jinxie86, @Vallier, @A_nominus, and @Tan27!

Magnus wakes slowly, cautiously.

Rolling over in bed, he finds the sheets are not what he is used to, the bed doesn’t squeak under his weight, and his eyes open in a soft squint. The lodge rushes back on him and the events of last night, and that familiar pit of self-loathing opens up in his stomach. He curls up onto himself, fighting to close it, to make himself okay.

“Magnus?”

The voice comes from behind him and Magnus cranes his head back. It is Alec he had rolled away from. That unfamiliar feeling of lying with someone else. Magnus hasn’t had that for a while now. Alec’s arm is stretched out over the mattress towards Magnus, but he draws it back now. Magnus has to assume Alec was holding him in the night.

“You okay?” Alec asks gently, tucking his hands behind his head, leaning back against the pillows.

Magnus nods. “Good morning,” he says, rather than tell Alec that he’s fine, because he isn’t really.

Tilting his head, Alec is good enough not to pressure him, but Magnus can see that spark of doubt, of anxiety flare in his irises. He says nothing, however. He sits himself up as Magnus rolls to his side, reaching a hand out to absently touch the side of Magnus’s head. As much as he tries to fight the instinct, Magnus can’t help but close his eyes, pushing his head against Alec’s fingers a little.

“We should…” Magnus begins, swallows hard as his eyes open. “We should get dressed.”

Alec hums and nods slowly. “Yeah… suppose we should really.”

Pushing himself up to sitting, Magnus presses a hand beneath Alec’s jaw, allows Alec to meet him halfway in a light, yet decisive kiss. Alec practically gasps when their lips break and Magnus cradles his cheek, thumb stroking the high arch of his cheekbone. He can’t help but keep his eyes closed a while after their kiss breaks.

“I’ll take the bathroom,” says Magnus. “I need to do my makeup.”

“Need?” Alec echoes, a hint of amusement in his voice, and Magnus forces a smile, though he doesn’t feel like it because yes, he does need to do it. He needs to feel normal. He watches Alec’s expression fall and knows that he isn’t faking a smile as realistically as he thought. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s fine.”

Alec touches his wrist when he tries to get out of bed, the simplicity of it enough to keep Magnus in place. “Hey,” says Alec, so softly. “Please let me finish. I know your appearance is important to you. I’m not good at apologies, but… I’m sorry for—for dismissing you like that.” He has a strange look on his face, determined almost. “I’m not going to be like my brother.”

Magnus allows his eyes to soften, leans in to press a kiss upon Alec’s brow. “You’re not,” he assures, and leaves it at that.

Picking out clothes is more difficult than usual. Magnus stands in front of the closet for a good few minutes, just staring at his sartorial selection and asking himself exactly what would make him feel more like himself. In the end, he chose a dark shirt paired with a grey jacket that could either be described as a dull galaxy or a colourful fossil pattern, matched with dark blue jeans.

_Strength today_ , his mind vows to him and Magnus turns his head from the thought, striding to the bathroom and locking the door behind him. Dressing is the easy part then. His make-up bag stares at him from the counter beside the sink. Magnus glares back at it, yanking it open when it’s time and selecting what he needs.

He lines his eyes darkly, touches his eyelids in silver and purple. It doesn’t feel like enough, but he has little energy for anything more extravagant. His desperation to hold himself to a high standard of appearance is countered heavily by simply being too exhausted to make that much of an effort.

He takes his medication with water from the sink tap, ignores how robotic it feels.

Sighing slowly, he runs product-slicked fingers into his hair, spiking it up before washing the residing gel from his hands. Stepping out into the bedroom, Magnus tries to force a smile, but the sight he is greeted with means that he can’t even do that.

Alec is stood beside Magnus’s side of the bed, a frown creasing his brow as he gazed down at the open journal in his hands. _Magnus’s_ journal.

Magnus clears his throat loudly, not feeling a hint of shame when it makes Alec flinch and look up at him.

“Magnus, I—”

“What are you doing?” Magnus asks, frowns and comes forward to take his journal from Alec’s hands. He practically snatches it away, but he doesn’t worry about that right now. He has seen enough to know that Alec had been reading the very first page.

Alec shakes his head. “I just… I was going to look at your sketches and I saw the inscription and…” He frowns softly, shrugging one shoulder. “Who wrote it?”

Magnus squints at him. “Alec, are you… jealous?”

Huffing softly, Alec glances away, his arms crossing tight over his chest. “You were weird about it before,” he says, swallows hard. “You were wary about me looking through it—don’t think I didn’t notice you hesitating. You turned it past the first page.”

Magnus sighs, rakes a hand into his hair and hugs the journal to his chest with the other hand. “Alec, this is my journal. It’s _mine_ , okay? I know it’s full of sketches of you, but that doesn’t give you the right to look through it whenever you want.”

“How does that not give me the right to look through it?”

Magnus gives him a squinted look, torn somewhere between hurt and annoyance. “Well, I’m going to let you ponder that.”

He turns away, trying to ignore Alec’s protest—an attempt that proves to be impossible when the young man grabs his arm. Magnus’s chest clenches at the familiarity of it and he wrenches himself away, fighting to hide the tremor in his body and his voice as he lifts a hand in warning.

“Don’t,” he begins and he can hear his voice trembling, see his fingers shaking in front of him. “Don’t touch me.”

Alec’s expression falls and he moves his hands in a calming gesture. “I—I’m so sorry, Magnus. Please, just—”

“No,” Magnus says, shakes his head, and that is enough to stop Alec. “Last night you asked me not to push you away. Now, I’m asking you to respect my wishes when I say that I don’t want to be here and that I need to be away from you today. Please, don’t try to change my mind.”

He doesn’t wait for Alec’s reply. He doesn’t _care_ what Alec has to say. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. Pushing his way out the room, Magnus presses a hand to his arm, to the place where Alec had taken hold of him. It had almost dragged him back there. It was trying even now.

Magnus itched to find a room, to lock himself in, but then what? He doesn’t carry a razor blade anymore; years of Ragnor’s patience, counselling and therapy sessions have ensured that. Sometimes he still feels the urge to hurt himself, when he is reminded of his mother, mostly, but he had made a promise.

Keeping that promise, Magnus takes his phone from his pocket, striding down the corridor to the balcony and slipping to the side a little, so he won’t be visible to anyone in the lodge. He taps his dad’s contact, holds it to his ear and listens to the tone ring out.

“ _Hey,_ ” Ragnor’s voice comes through clearly and Magnus takes a steadying breath.

“Hey, dad,” he greets, leaning back against the balcony railing. “Uh… I didn’t call you last night because I…” He sucks in a shaky breath. “Sorry, this is a terrible way to start a phone call. It was a bad night last night.”

There is a beat of silence. “ _Sweetheart, what’s happened? Are you okay?_ ”

Magnus shakes his head, chuckles weakly. “I don’t know… I had a panic attack last night. Alec cut his finger and I just… I just lost myself.”

“ _Your mother?_ ”

Swallowing hard, Magnus kicks his heel against the floor. “Yeah,” he admits.

“ _Magnus, I can buy you an early ticket home. I can come and get you._ ”

“No, dad, I…” Magnus shakes his head. “I need to see this through. I know it was bad—it _is_ bad—I haven’t had a flashback about mother for a while now, but…” He breathes out hard. “I had a fight with Alec this morning. He’s seen the inscription she left in the journal. He’s been trying to ask about it and I just—I just ran away from him. After last night… I just couldn’t handle it.”

On the other end of the line, his dad clicked his tongue softly. “ _Magnus, I don’t know what to say… Would it really be so bad for him to know about it? I know you don’t like to talk about her, but… you told me you liked Alec._ ”

A soft sigh breathes from Magnus’s lips. “I do, I just… I don’t know how to open up to people anymore. I could’ve just told him it was her who wrote it, but now I’ve made such a fuss about it… If I tell him this, I need to tell him everything and I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I just… I need to think.”

“ _Well… whatever you do, I know it’ll be right. You always make the right choice, Magnus._ ”

Magnus closes his eyes. “Maybe not this time,” he murmurs. “I don’t know what it is, but I’m not sure of anything anymore, dad.”

Ragnor chuckles softly. “ _Magnus, remember that I know you… Sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself and I know you now._ ” He is quiet a moment and Magnus frowns at the ground. “ _You pull away from people when they try to help you. When you came to me and you had your first panic attack, you wouldn’t speak to me for weeks afterwards… It just proves that you care about Alec more than you’ve let on, maybe more than you realise._ ”

“Because I don’t want to see him, you think that means I care about him?”

“ _It’s not that you don’t want to see him… It’s that you don’t want_ him _to see_ you _._ ”

Magnus blinks hard, watching his breath cloud in the air in front of him. “Dad…”

“ _It’s okay, Magnus_ ,” Ragnor utters and there is so much understanding in his voice. Magnus closes his eyes against it. Maybe he’s a little sick of being understood. Maybe he wishes some things should be unthinkable. “ _I’m always here if you need me. I’m just a phone call away, okay?_ ”

“I know, dad… and I’m grateful—”

“ _But you don’t need to be analysed right now, I know,_ ” says his dad. “ _Talk to Alec if you can. Don’t let him think you don’t like him._ ”

Magnus frowns. “Is that what you thought of me when I became non-verbal with you? You thought I didn’t like you?”

“ _No, Magnus, but Alec isn’t me. Alec hasn’t had experience with people who have mental health problems. I don’t know how much he’ll understand._ ” He takes a moment, breathing out slowly. “ _I know it’s difficult, sweetheart, but try to talk to him about this. It helps to talk, you know that._ ”

Magnus lowers his gaze. “I should go,” he murmurs, and Ragnor definitely sees right through him, but he’s good enough not to mention it. He’s kind like that. At the time of their meeting, he had been the only truly kind person to enter Magnus’s life. “I haven’t had breakfast yet…”

Ragnor sighs, doesn’t try to hide it. “ _Okay, you go and have breakfast. Please, call me if you need to… and remember you can always come home._ ”

“Thanks, dad,” Magnus says. “I love you.”

“ _Love you too, Mags._ ”

Magnus is the one to hang up. He usually is. Ragnor likes to ensure he’s finished talking before the call ends, so he’ll wait for Magnus to end it. It is hesitant this time. Magnus doesn’t want to stop talking to his dad, but he knows that he needs to get on with the day.

He misses his dad. He hadn’t expected to long for Ragnor’s company or his wisdom so desperately, but there are some instances where only his dad’s presence can help. Ragnor is everything to Magnus; the man had saved his life after all, the one to care for him when he had no one else.

Right now, more than anything, Magnus wants to see his dad.

He wants to go home.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Magnus's attempt to cool off after his fight with Alec, he runs into Isabelle and her grandfather. The elder man has some advice for him.
> 
> After a day of worrying and sulking, Alec finally has the conversation with his father that he has been dreading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to @Adaline_Blooms, @codenamepenguin, @Vallier, @Malecfan09, @frammenti_di_me, and @Tan27 for your comments on the last chapter! Also, welcome to new readers; I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story so far!
> 
> WARNINGS: homophobia, threats of conversion therapy, racism  
> This is all Robert Lightwood, so no surprises there, but it's really bad this chapter because it's a showdown with Alec. Please take care of yourselves.

Downstairs, Magnus heads for the small kitchen nook, fixes himself a milky coffee with heaps of sugar. Taking a long drink, he wanders over to the lit fireplace, shivering from taking his call, cursing himself for being so foolish and for standing outside in the middle of winter.

A dark shape on the sofa makes him falter, but it isn’t Alec. Isabelle has her own mug cradled in her manicured hands, patterned black with a dozen prints of red snakes. A red jumper bares her shoulders and black bra straps bordered with lace, her legs draped over the arm of the chair, slimmed with dark leggings. She stares up at him through heavily made-up eyes, casting him a smile that fades quickly to confusion. Magnus supposes his expression says it all, despite all attempts to feign nonchalance. If anyone was going to see through him, he isn’t surprised it is Isabelle.

“You alright?” she asks, though her tone suggests she already knows the answer. “Didn’t see you or Alec at breakfast.”

“I’m fine,” Magnus says on autopilot. It isn’t true, but he has become to accustomed to telling that lie that it just slips out without him even needing to think about it. It’s a bad habit that he thought he had grown out of; he thought Ragnor had coaxed him away from it.

Apparently, it has decided to resurface.

“So,” Isabelle says, as Magnus sinks onto the sofa beside her. “What are you doing, huh…? Why are you hanging out with me and not your boyfriend?”

Magnus works his jaw a little, drumming his fingers on the mug. “Alec and I… we had a fight.”

Isabelle breathes out her realisation. “That’s rough… Is this your first fight?”

“First one like this,” says Magnus in complete honesty. “I just walked away from him. I’ve never walked away from anyone like that before. I just…” He shakes his head, sighs into his steaming mug of coffee. “I’m just tired. It makes me short-tempered sometimes. I know I overreacted.”

“Depends on what he did,” says Isabelle.

Magnus shrugs one shoulder. “He was just looking through my journal when I was out of the room. He saw a message someone wrote for me and he got… kind of weird. Possessive almost.”

Humming softly, Isabelle takes a thoughtful sip of her coffee. “Did you tell him who wrote it?”

Magnus hesitates. “If I do that… then there are a lot more things I’ll have to explain. I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for him to know everything. I don’t want him to think of me any differently.”

“Better to be honest.”

Both turn at the unexpected voice and Magnus’s eyes widen to see Alec and Isabelle’s grandfather approaching. He walks awkwardly, like he has problems with his legs that are bothering him today, and sits himself in an armchair adjacent to their sofa, gazes absently into the fire.

“Hey, grandpa,” Isabelle greets, sitting herself up so she can lean a little towards him. “How are you this morning? Did you sleep okay?”

“Very well, my dear, thank you.” His eyes went to Magnus, as if considering him. “You and Alec are having troubles?”

Magnus swallowed hard. “I guess so,” he murmured. “I… I overreacted. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.”

“Child,” said the old man and Magnus blinked, a strange feeling in his chest when Mr. Trueblood called him that, “however you acted, you had your reasons. Alec’s a smart boy, smart enough to know when he’s hurt your feelings… smart enough to apologise if he needs to.” A wistful kind of looked crossed his face. “Maybe foolish enough to have hurt you in the first place, but I am confident that he’ll make amends.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes. “How can you be so sure…?”

“Because,” began Mr. Trueblood, “he’s like me… We make mistakes sometimes because we can’t always make sense of people like you. Alec and I… who have only loved one person our entire lives, we struggle at the start because it’s all new to us… If you stick with him, I promise you that he will do everything in his power to make you happy.”

There is a moment of quiet. Isabelle is sat, enthralled by her grandfather’s words. Magnus regards the old man a long moment.

“You’re like him.”

The man nodded, sighing softly. “With my wife, it wasn’t always easy. I was… Well, I was like most men back then. I was stupid and I made assumptions based on how she looked and what she wore.” He chuckled unexpectedly. “She put me in my place quick enough. Put me on my ass a few times too if I recall.”

Isabelle laughs sharply, like she has never heard him speak like that before. She probably hasn’t, Magnus reflects as she looks at her. Alec had the same reaction when his grandfather spoke, like he’s astonished to hear the man talk at all, much less to Magnus. Of all of them, Magnus feels as though it is Isabelle and her grandfather that he feels most at ease around.

“Whole world was telling her that women can’t do this or that,” Mr. Trueblood continues, a new light in his eyes. “She was so strong in the face of that. She kept going despite what they said. She didn’t let them stop her. She didn’t let me keep that mindset, changed me for the better.”

“I know you loved her very much,” Magnus utters.

“Still do,” the old man says and Magnus nods. “You remind me of her… She wore makeup like that just because she wanted to. Said it didn’t matter if she was a woman, said it didn’t make her any less strong. She wasn’t wearing it to please anyone else.” He cants his head. “You seem like that… like you wear things just because you like how they look… Alec will see how important that is in a person.”

Magnus hums his agreement.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell the old man that he isn’t convinced.

* * *

Alec sulks in his room all day.

He reads his books and watches the words blur in front of his eyes. He takes a shower and scrubs his skin until it hurts. He re-dresses plainly in black jeans and a grey jumper full of holes, watching with mild interest as he pokes his thumb through a hole in the sleeve, remembering when he would chew at them when he was anxious.

He was anxious now.

That _damn_ journal. Why wouldn’t he have just left well enough alone? Of course Magnus wouldn’t want him touching his stuff; Alec doesn’t know why he thought that would be okay. Maybe he believed they were close enough to idly handle each other’s possessions. Maybe he thought the journal was filled of sketches of him, so he was entitled to look. Maybe he assumed that Magnus was his boyfriend now.

 _Stupid_ , Alec’s mind hisses at him cruelly.

It’s dark by the time he leaves his room. Magnus hasn’t been back all day.

Alec can’t wrap his head around it. He has been trying all day to understand why Magnus reacted so fiercely. It isn’t as though Alec is unaware that he had relationships in the past; he knows solely through Jace’s gossip that Magnus gets around. Maybe Alec didn’t handle the inscription well, but it feels strange to him for Magnus to keep something like that from a past relationship—and to fill it with sketches of _Alec_ no less.

He grips the stair bannister tightly as he makes his way down, fighting to remember the inscription word for word. _My darling Magnus… My darling_.

“Who even talks like that…?” Alec huffs under his breath, upset with himself and with Magnus and with whatever poetry major Magnus dated who wrote that inscription.

_All my love…_

Alec scoffs through his nose, shaking the words from his head. Imagining Magnus with another man—or a woman, even—gives Alec such an indescribable feeling, and not in a good way. Thinking of Magnus like that, with someone who loves him with all their heart, who doesn’t have any doubts or fears, who isn’t with Magnus through some elaborate deception on their parents and their siblings…

Alec hates himself for it, because Magnus deserves someone like that.

Magnus deserves better than him.

“Looking for someone?”

Alec freezes, thrown gracelessly from his own mind by the voice, lifting his head to lock eyes with his father.

Robert Lightwood stands silhouetted in front of the fire, one hand braced to the stonework mantle, staring hard into the flames. Alec swallows hard, trying to ignore what a menacing figure his father makes standing like that. That familiar prick of fear touches his chest, and he wills it away.

“Have you seen Magnus?” he asks, knowing that his father will not approve of the subject of his search, but knowing he needs to apologise for invading Magnus’s privacy.

His father is quiet a moment. “I think he went to Isabelle’s room,” he mutters, and Alec catches something like satisfaction in his voice. “You know what your sister’s like with her seduction techniques. I suppose Magnus’s… fluid sexuality means that he isn’t immune to her charms.”

Alec blinks hard. “Magnus is bisexual, but he’s not… He’s my boyfriend. He doesn’t like Izzy like that.”

An unconvinced hum rumbles in his father’s throat, and he pushes himself from the fireplace. Alec instinctively takes a step back, ducks his head when his father strides past him, heading for the kitchen. There, Robert takes a mug from the cupboard, places it under the nozzle of the coffee machine and turns to lay his eyes upon Alec.

His son takes it as a cue to approach, stepping into the kitchen area.

“You remember what I said to you before this vacation?” says Robert, though it sounds rhetorical, so Alec gives no reply. “I told you I’d take you to conversion therapy. I don’t know if you think bringing your boyfriend on this trip was an act of rebellion or simply foolishness, but I did not tell you about the therapy as a threat.”

Alec frowns softly. “I… I know, dad. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me, but I… I don’t want to go to therapy. I brought Magnus because I needed to show you that this is who I am. You’re my father and I love you and it seemed insane that you didn’t understand who I am, so… so I just needed to show you. I need you to understand.”

“Alec,” says Robert and there is not a hint of understanding in his voice, despite Alec’s best efforts. “You know I want what’s best for you, don’t you? You know I suggested you go to therapy because I wanted you to feel better. You aren’t happy, Alec. I want you to be happy.”

Swallowing hard, Alec forces himself to meet his father’s gaze. “I’m fine, dad.”

“Do you love him?”

Alec hesitates. It’s such a loaded question. It would be easy to say if there was no truth to it, to just lie. “Yes,” he manages to say somewhat believably.

Robert says nothing for a long moment, barely seeming to be paying attention to Alec. “That girl in your class. The one whose father is a politician.”

“Lydia?” Alec asks, frowns softly.

“Don’t you think she’d be a better match for you?”

Alec almost snaps at him, flitting too quickly between anger and grief. “Dad, she’s… she’s a girl. I don’t…”

“Are you sure? Have you ever even tried to date a woman?”

“I don’t need to date them to know how I feel,” says Alec, swallowing hard. “I’m not attracted to girls. I don’t find them physically appealing; I can’t connect with them emotionally… I don’t want to be in a relationship with a woman. I don’t love them.”

Robert stirs his coffee. “Try,” he says. “Maybe if you tried dating a girl. Someone in your own standing.”

Alec blinks rapidly. “What… What’d you mean by that?”

“You and Magnus,” Robert begins, completely calm, “you’re from… disparate backgrounds, let’s say. I want you dating someone more like you. Someone enrolled at the university, or _any_ university. Someone academic. Just someone who has parents would be a start.”

“Magnus has a dad,” says Alec.

Robert scoffs. “He’s adopted. His real father left. Why do you suppose that is?” The spoon clinks as he sets it down in the mug, giving Alec his full attention. “That boy is disturbed, Alec. He was orphaned across the other side of the world. How do you suppose he got to America, hm? You think he got there legally?”

Alec shakes his head. “I… I haven’t asked him. He doesn’t like talking about that stuff. Besides, Jace is adopted and he’s—”

“Jace isn’t an immigrant,” says Robert. “Jace was born in America. Magnus doesn’t want to talk about how he got here through illegal methods. Through deception and deceit, claiming _asylum_ the second he was challenged. He came to take advantage of the lifestyle and to steal a home from an American child.”

“Dad, I don’t know how he got here, but, if he claimed asylum, then that’s within his rights—”

“Shut up,” Robert orders, not even raising his voice, but Alec obeys without question. “Magnus is wrong for you. You think I don’t know he’s on medication? He’s mentally disturbed, Alec. You being having these _urges_ is one thing, but choosing that boy to… do whatever two men do together. I won’t tolerate it. I won’t allow you to be consorting with an illegal immigrant who, on top of everything else, is constantly taking drugs.”

“Dad, you don’t understand. He needs them to—”

His dad grabs his arm and the other hand lifts too quickly for Alec to comprehend and he’s flinching backwards, his eyes closed and he fights back instinctive tears. His cheek stings.

“You defend him again, and I will disown you on the spot,” his father threatens, his hand clenching hard on Alec’s arm, never once letting up, just clutching him harder and harder. “Do you understand that everything you have, _everything_ in your life is there because of me? This family, your university, your home. I gave it to you. I can take it all away.”

“You’re hurting me,” Alec utters, his gaze low and submissive, swallowing hard when his father gives him a harsh shake.

“Tell me you understand what I am saying to you, Alec. Get rid of this boy or I will throw you out onto the streets.”

Alec grits his teeth, wrenches his arm away. “Let me make my own mistakes,” he growls, his anger spilling free, overcoming his fear for a moment.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Robert warns, his voice trembling with anger. “Without me—”

“I don’t need you,” Alec insists, swallows hard and shakes his head. His clenches his hands into fists to stop them from trembling. “I can get a student loan. I don’t need your money.”

Robert scoffs softly. “You think a student loan will cover accommodation? Do you understand how loans work, Alec? They give you money based on your parent’s salary. The university will assume you’re getting help with our money and they’ll barely give you enough to cover tuition.”

Alec swallows hard, ducks his gaze. Heat is pricking the corners of his eyes. Robert gives him a look halfway to sympathy, comes forward to touch his arm, gentler than before.

“Alec, I want what is best for you,” his father utters. “Just tell Magnus you don’t want to see him anymore. Go to therapy. Work your way through university on our money… We can forget any of this ever happened.”

Alec shakes his head, a soft pinch to his brow. “No, no, I don’t want to go back… I know who I am.”

Robert inhales sharply, lets it out in a steady exhale. “Alec, I’m your father… I want you to be happy.”

Alec blinks hard. He doesn’t feel like crying suddenly, he doesn’t feel angry or afraid. Complete and certain clarity fills his mind and his heart. He looks to his father, a man he has lied to his entire life—a man who wants him to keep lying—and he tells the truth.

“I’m not happy,” he says, swallows, “and it’s not because I’m ashamed of who I am. I don’t have a problem with being gay. It’s you who has a problem with that.”

“Alec, do you understand how difficult you are making your life by playing into these… these thoughts you have?”

Alec bites the inside of his cheek to stop his lips trembling. “I’m not making anything difficult. I didn’t choose this.”

“Of course you did,” says Robert, curls his lip in something akin to disgust. “You chose to bring Magnus here. You chose to do… whatever you people do…” He shakes his head, looking his son up and down. “You’re sick, Alec. Sick people need help to get better. This is just like any other illness.”

“Any other illness?” Alec repeats, incredulous. “Dad, you can’t seriously think—”

“I’m doing what’s best for you, Alec, even if you can’t see that right now. You’ll thank me when you’re better.”

Shaking his head in dismay, Alec takes a shaky step back. “No, I… I thought…”

He doesn’t know what he thought. He thought that his father would accept it if he saw it for himself. He thought being here with Magnus might prove to him that Alec’s sexuality isn’t something that can disappear. He never thought this.

“You can’t make me go to therapy,” says Alec, fighting to mask the tremor in his voice and certain that he fails.

“If you don’t, then you are no longer part of this family,” Robert says, eerily calm now, horrifyingly so. “Is he really worth that?”

“This isn’t about Magnus!” Alec insists. “This is about me! If you do this, then I… I’m dead. Do you understand what I’m saying? I won’t live with conversion therapy. I won’t listen to you and a fake fucking doctor tell me I’m sick! I’d rather be dead.”

Robert exhales a breath that comes almost impatient. “If that’s what you want, perhaps it might be better for everyone.”

Alec can’t breathe.

He stares at his father, who gazes stonily back at him, uncaring and unapologetic. Tears sting the corners of his eyes. “Dad,” he whispers, half choked with grief.

Robert shifts like he finds his son’s tears uncomfortable to witness, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Alec, doesn’t speak. Alec does the only thing that makes sense to him in that moment. The only thing he _can_ do now that there is no more fight left in him.

Alec runs.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus's downtime with Isabelle is interrupted by the news of Alec's disappearance. Angered by the cause, Magnus confronts Alec's father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who left comments on the last chapter: @malec0305 (merci!), @Verunka, @PhoenixStar73, @Vallier, @Malecfan09, @catt021, and @jinxie86! Found a new love for this story and it is largely because of your enthusiasm, so thank you so much!

“Your dad took you to Ibiza?”

Magnus chuckles, nimble fingers working Isabelle’s hair. “Not my favourite place, but the parties are always good.”

Isabelle breathes out in wonder. “My parents would never let me go somewhere like that.”

Magnus hesitates in his consistent and complicated plaiting. It is strange to think about how much control the Lightwood parents have over their children, who are all adults in their own right.

Isabelle is more rebellious than her brother. Magnus can tell as much just by looking around her room. The walls are dark grey, sponged with multicolour swirls like living in a rainbow Van Gogh painting. Posters and stickers scatter the walls, indie rock bands, films and TV shows, various bits of art and sketches. Magnus can’t say for certain that he recognises the artist, but it looks suspiciously like Clary’s handiwork.

The second Magnus stepped in, he knew he and Isabelle would get along just fine. Her dresser was stacked with makeup and hair accessories and Magnus had perused it with great interest, admiring her vast collection. What had started as a chat about Alec and Mr. Trueblood had quickly turned into idly gossiping while Magnus did Isabelle’s hair.

They are sat on her bed, Magnus cross-legged at Isabelle’s back, working her hair into an extravagant plait. It calmed him to have his hands busy and he didn't feel like using his journal right now. He would only draw Alec and that was a sensitive subject.

“Where’d you learn how to do this?” Isabelle asks.

Magnus hums. “When I was little, I would sometimes do my mother’s hair,” he admits with a soft shrug. “Later, I did my friend’s hair, my girlfriends…”

“Bet you were a hit at the slumber parties.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Isabelle grins and Magnus watches her in the mirror facing the bed. From an entirely objective standpoint, she is a beautiful woman. She looks like Alec. Her eyes are darker, but she looks like Alec and they are so similar that it throws Magnus for a minute. She catches him staring, tilts her head at him in the mirror.

“You okay?” she asks.

Magnus breathes out slowly. “You think I should tell Alec the truth?”

Isabelle shrugs softly, apparently unaffected by the abrupt topic change. “I can’t give you advice on this, because I don’t know what the truth is,” she says, meets his gaze in the mirror. “It’s yours to tell when you’re ready for it.”

Magnus knows that he can’t expect Isabelle to tell him what to do. In the past, he had always known what was right. Now, with Alec, he doesn’t know which way is up anymore. The young man has a strange effect on him. Magnus feels… powerless, almost. Alec confuses him and teases him and frustrates him, but whatever they have is so much more.

 _Alec_ is so much more.

Magnus needs to be honest with him, he knows this now more than ever. His reaction to the journal had been poorly handled, allowing the sensitivity of the object to get the better of him, but Alec will understand. Once he hears Magnus reasoning, he will understand.

Just as Magnus is opening his mouth, to reassure Isabelle that he will speak to Alec honestly, there is a thunder of footsteps in the hallway outside. The door slams open and Magnus almost jumps right off the bed. Clary stands there in the doorway, hair askew and flushed, looking harried and panicked and her eyes come immediately to Magnus.

“It’s Alec,” she says, breathless. “I was coming back from dinner with Jace and we saw him run out of the lodge. Jace went after him, but I don’t—”

“Wait, what?” Magnus asks with a frown. “What do you mean he ran out? Where’s he going?”

“I don’t know.” Clary shakes her head, distraught. “I don’t know. He just ran off. I… I think he might’ve been crying. Iz, your dad was in the kitchen. I—I think he and Alec had a fight or something.”

“Christ,” Magnus growls, shoving himself up from the bed and striding past Clary into the hall.

He doesn’t stop there. He doesn’t care anymore. He has had enough with these people.

The stair bannister creaks under his weight, using it to take the stairs down two at a time, and spinning to face the kitchen where Robert Lightwood is stood. The elder man takes a sip out of the mug, keeping eye contact with Magnus the entire time. It is a look of disdain, of amusement almost, as if he found immense pleasure in seeing Magnus’s anger.

“What did you do?” asks Magnus, not bothering to disguise the tremor of rage in his voice.

Robert lazily looks him up and down. “I hear you and Alec had a little disagreement earlier.”

“Don’t even speak to me about that,” Magnus snarls, feeling a bitter satisfaction when Robert’s smirk falls, “because I know you don’t care. All you care about is having your perfect goddamn family. Well—guess what—your son is gay! You don’t have to like it, but you have to accept it. You think you can change him? You can’t. Conversion therapy doesn’t fucking work and it’s _so_ damaging! Either you don’t understand what you’re doing or you just don’t care… I’d go with the latter based on literally everything I have seen from you this past week.”

Robert sets his mug down on the kitchen counter, taking a step towards Magnus with his finger pointed like he’s trying to make a threat. Magnus stares him down. “Do not talk to me about my family when you don’t know the first thing about it.” He smirks cruelly. “Jace has told me all about you, _Magnus_.” He says it like he’d rather eat dirt. “Don’t presume to project your daddy issues onto my son.”

Magnus scoffs softly. “My ‘daddy issues’, as you say, are exactly how I know that you are barely fit to be a father. Alec deserves so much better… You’re so obsessed with perfection in your children that you can’t look past this one thing. I feel sorry for you that you can’t see what a wonderful person your son really is. You can’t see that, despite everything you tried to install in him, he is so much better than you.”

Dark eyes narrow in poorly concealed anger. “Do you speak to your own father like this?”

“No,” Magnus snaps, “because my ‘father’ left my mother and I with nothing. My step-father abused me for over a decade and I was _terrified_ of what he would do to me if I so much as looked at him wrong. My _dad_ , Ragnor, I wouldn’t dream of talking to him like this, because he doesn’t need me to tell him that conversion therapy is as good as a death sentence!”

“If I want _my son_ to go to therapy, then that’s exactly what he will do!” Robert yells, jabbing a finger to Magnus’s chest and forcing him back a pace.

“Dad!”

Magnus snaps his head back to see Jace storming towards them. There is snow in his hair and on his boots. He is the very picture of rage, his face flushed and his fists clenched, and he grabs Magnus’s shoulder to pull him away from his father.

“Conversion therapy?” he seethes. “Are you kidding me? _That’s_ what you’ve been scheming this whole time?”

Robert lifts his chin, sniffs. “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

Jace looks to Magnus, his eyes wide with panic. “That’s what you were trying to tell me with… with Alec. Oh, god, Magnus, I…” Magnus waves a hand to dismiss him, planning on cutting in, asking where Alec is and if Jace even found him, but the young blond turns back on his father. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What _I’ve_ done?” Jace huffs and his shoulders tremble. “Does mom know about this? Was it her idea?”

“Your mother is too soft for something like this,” Robert mutters. “She wouldn’t permit what is necessary. She likes to pretend she _understands_ these things, but she is as clueless as you.”

“At least she’s trying!”

Magnus grabs his arm, fearing that the young man might actually lunge at his father. “Jace, stop. Where’s Alec?”

“I couldn’t find him,” admits Jace, looks to him in grief and panic. “He ran into the trees. I came back to find you. I was shouting for him, but he wasn’t listening to me. He’ll listen to you. I…” He swallows so hard that Magnus can see his throat jolt. “I need your help. Please.”

Magnus nods, holds his hand out. “Give me your coat.”

Jace frowns, but does as he is told and Magnus holds it over his arm, turning and running to the door. It isn’t for him, the coat. If Alec has really run off into the woods as Jace said, he will be close to freezing if Magnus finds him— _when_ Magnus finds him.

Magnus _will_ find him.

Outside, the sun has long since set and the sky is filled with darkened clouds. The moon hits the snow and turns it silver, lighting a trodden path into the woods just so briefly before the clouds smother it. Magnus pulls up his jacket collar against the wind, blinking snowflakes from his lashes as he takes his phone from his pocket, taps the torch on and kicks off into a run across the front lawn and into the darkness of the forest.

* * *

Branches whip his cheeks, but Alec doesn’t care. They are nothing compared to the sting of tears in his eyes, the heat on his cheeks an ugly contrast to the cold at his fingertips. He doesn’t know where he is going. He just knows he needs to get away.

Someone had been yelling after him when he ran into the woods, but they had stopped quick enough. It just serves to prove his worth. No one will bother to come after him.

Scenarios race through his mind, terrible, wonderful things. He could easily freeze to death out here, die alone in the woods in the snow. No one would bother looking for him. Maybe no one would ever find his body. Maybe someone would find him on the brink of death, take pity on this foolish tourist and take him in. Alec could hide in the alps forever, learning the language like his father never let him, living a simple life as a waiter or a barista, falling in love without persecution from his own family.

A sharp thump of pain hit his foot, hitting a tree root under the snow and sending him sprawling down into the freezing blanket of white. Shoving himself up, Alec blinks snow from his eyes and stumbles gracelessly upright. There is a sharp pain in his foot when he puts weight on it, sending fresh tears to his eyes. His ankle is twisted.

He is shivering hard now, his clothes soaked through from the snow melting upon contact with his body heat. Behind him, Alec can barely make out his own tracks; the snow is falling heavier now and he knows it will soon cover the way back. He is already lost. He should never have run away, but he didn’t know what else to do.

He still doesn’t know.

“Help me,” he whispers, stares up at the sky and it’s merciless mass of clouds. “Please, I don’t know what to do… Please help me…”

The awful howl of the wind is almost deafening. God isn’t listening.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Alec sinks into the snow, leaning back against the nearest tree. He isn’t dressed for this weather, but it doesn’t matter. Maybe his father is right. Maybe they would all be better off if he just stays here. Magnus certainly will be. Magnus deserves so much more than him.

The tears burn on his cheeks, a startling contrast to the cold air, and Alec palms them away, huddling himself back against the tree. He knows he should move, should try to find his way back, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He wants to stay here forever. Perhaps freezing here wouldn’t be so bad.

Alec imagined what it would be like to die sometimes. When he was upset or numb or anxious, he would imagine it. He never came close to attempting to bringing his imagination to reality, always considering it too painful to hurt himself in any ways that mattered. When things got bad, he would dig his nails into the palms of his hands, but that’s as far as he ever took it.

He does it now, just to feel something other than the biting cold. It hurts so much more in this chill than it ever has before.

He knows he’s a coward. He may have told his father he’d rather die than accept conversion therapy, but, the truth is, he’s too weak to go through with it. He will keep his head down and do as his father wishes and he’ll pretend to be perfect, because he doesn’t have the strength to rebel. He isn’t like Isabelle. He isn’t like Magnus.

As much as he wishes he could be strong, he knows that he will never be like them.

The wind rushes at him and brings a voice on the air and Alec lifts his head, his vision swimming and watching the snow swirl in front of him. His name comes at him through the forest, so far away. A beam of light flits through the trees, breaking up through the pine and scattering across the snow.

“Alec!” a voice shouts for him, clearer now. Desperation bleeds through in the sound. “Alec!”

Alec watches a figure come into sight through the trees, phone in hand emitting torchlight. He grabs at the tree to haul himself up, his legs shaking in exhaustion, his fingers scraping on the flaking bark, though he can barely feel it now that he is so numb from the cold.

The light comes to his face and Alec lifts a hand in front of his eyes, shielding himself from the brightness of it.

“Alec?” Magnus yells, angling the torch away from Alec’s face and running to him, the beam flitting wildly across the snow with his hurried movements.

“Magnus,” Alec mumbles, too exhausted to even shiver now, but still forcing that name from his lips.

He all but collapses into Magnus’s arms as he is wrapped up in a crushing embrace. For a moment, Alec fears that he might shatter like an icicle with Magnus holding him like this when he’s so cold. The fears subside when Magnus’s hand lifts to cradle the back of his head.

“God, I thought I wouldn’t find you,” Magnus utters in his ear.

Alec shakes his head. “I’m sorry…” he chokes out through a sob. “Magnus…”

“You’re so stupid,” Magnus whispers, though his voice comes strange and muffled and he sniffs hard between sentences. Alec wonders if he’s crying. “What the hell were you thinking, huh? You shouldn’t be out here like this. It’s below freezing, Alexander... You could’ve come to me. We could’ve talked.”

Alec shakes his head, but he doesn’t have a rational answer. “I was… scared,” he admits shakily, and Magnus holds him a little tighter.

He breathes out slowly as he lets Alec go, hands still braced to his shoulders like he’s afraid Alec might collapse or run off again. Gold eyes survey Alec, narrowed with concern, bright with tears. “Are you okay?” he asks, palming his cheeks to push the tears away. It’s only then that Alec sees Jace’s coat draped over one arm. “Are you hurt?”

Alec swallows hard, ducks his head. “My ankle,” he says miserably. “I think I twisted it.”

Magnus shakes his head, throws the coat over Alec’s shoulders, hastily repositions himself to Alec’s side. “Lean on me.”

“I can’t go back,” Alec whispers, leaning his head to Magnus’s own. “I can’t…”

“If your father so much as looks at you, I will deck him.”

Alec can’t help but laugh, though it comes out softer than a whisper. His breath clouds in the air. It somehow seems like Magnus had snapped a little, like he’s finally had enough of Alec’s relatives after almost a full week in their company, but it still feels good to have someone looking out for him.

Looking to the man at his side, this gorgeous, wonderful, frustrated man, Alec realises something very important. He doesn’t want to freeze to death. He doesn’t want to run. He knows what he wants, and he wants Magnus.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the argument with his father, Alec struggles with opening up to Magnus about his difficult past and the concerns for his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @catt021, @PhoenixStar73, @Maryliz2121, @jinxie86, @malec0305, @Vallier, @codenamepenguin, @Malecislife, @malecfan16, @Alethea12, @Verunka and @Tan27 for you comments on the last chapter! Wow, there were a lot of comments on that last one. Conclusions seem to be that Robert is an asshole and Magnus is incredible (which is how most of my stories tend to go, honestly)!
> 
> Don't feel 100% with this one, but I didn't want to keep anyone waiting any longer, so here you go!

The lodge is eerily quiet when Magnus gets Alec back inside.

He throws Jace’s coat from the young man’s shoulders, brushing the snow from his hair and lifting a hand to his cheek to gauge his temperature. His skin is ice beneath Magnus’s hand. His eyes are dark as they search their surroundings and Magnus clutches his face, drawing his heavy gaze to Magnus’s own.

“Hey,” he murmurs softly. “He’s not here. You’re with me, okay?”

Alec doesn’t reply. Magnus can’t blame him. It all seems to be sinking in now. He hadn't spoken so much as a whisper since Magnus first found him.

A door slams and footsteps thunder and Alec flinches at it all. Jace and Isabelle run into the lodge, shedding snow as they go and throwing themselves at Alec. Magnus takes a step back, giving them space as Alec is embraced by his siblings. Alec doesn’t hug them in return. He’s completely motionless in Jace and Isabelle’s arms, but he does close his eyes, like he’s so relieved to be here.

“You’re freezing,” Isabelle utters, pulling back.

“Come to the fire,” urges Jace, gently coaxing him to the half-smothered flames. “I can make it bigger. Sit down.”

“Let me get you some coffee.”

Alec sinks obediently into an armchair that Jace pushes close to the fire, turning his head to watch Isabelle rush to the kitchen in pursuit of coffee. His gaze lifts to Magnus, his eyes huge and rounded, like his siblings have never acted this way before. Maybe they haven’t.

The impression that Magnus has of their dynamic is that Alec is the protector of the group. He is the eldest and he cares for his brother and sister more than anything, more than himself. His nature—his true nature—is selflessness and kindness and Magnus admires those traits more than he can say.

“Magnus…”

He looks to the voice in a soft surprise, simply because he isn’t used to hearing Alec sound like that; small and trembling in his uncertainty. Alec reaches for him with a shaking hand and Magnus takes it in his own, disliking how cold Alec’s skin is to the touch. Dark eyes stare up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Magnus shakes his head. “Magnus… about our fight—”

Magnus perches himself on the arm of the chair, brings Alec’s hands to his lips and kisses his knuckles. “Don’t,” he murmurs. “We can talk about it later.”

“No,” says Alec in protest. “I—I was wrong. I’m s—sorry.”

He is shaking again now, the tremble coming through in his voice. Magnus kisses his fingertips, anxious to warm him however he can. Alec’s free hand goes to the back of his neck, holding him close.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he utters with a shuddering inhale.

Magnus shakes his head. “Regardless, you have it.”

Jace has the fire roaring again by the time Isabelle places a steaming mug into Alec’s hands. She holds him a moment, kneels in front of him and tucks his fingers around the mug. She leans forward then, kisses his knuckles.

“Alec,” she murmurs, “I’m so sorry. Dad is wrong. We’re all on your side, okay?”

Jace murmurs his agreement, completely genuine. Alec doesn’t reply. He turns away from them both, pushing the coffee back into Isabelle's hands. Sighing softly, Isabelle gets to her feet. Magnus coaxes her away a little, just out of earshot of Alec—or so he hopes—and gently clutches her arm. Rounded, sorrowful eyes gaze up at him.

“He’s going to be okay,” says Magnus, though he isn’t certain he believes it himself. “He just… I think he’s still shocked by whatever transpired between him and his father. Did Clary know? Did she tell you?”

Isabelle shakes her head. “No, she doesn’t know anything.” She glances to her brother, staring blankly into the fire, ignoring Jace when he tries to speak to him. “Will you talk to him…? I’ve never seen him like this before. I…” she pauses a moment, apparently struggling to get the words out, “I’m afraid for him.”

Magnus nods. “I know. I am too.” He glances back at Alec, hunched in front of the fire, and—at that exact moment—makes his decision. “I’ll talk to him… and I’ll smooth out our fight.”

For a moment, Isabelle just stares. Magnus knows that she at least somewhat understands what he’s saying; of course, she doesn’t grasp the implications as Magnus does. She nods, regardless and, wandering over to the fire, Isabelle takes Jace by the arm, talking to him in a low murmur as she pulls him away. Jace resists her a moment, but her muttering becomes more urgent, both shooting glances between Magnus and Alec, and he quickly becomes compliant under her lead.

When they are out of sight, Magnus goes to Alec, a hand falling to his arm. “Let’s get you back to the room, okay? You can take a hot shower or get to bed… Whatever you need to do.”

Alec stands and follows him silently, allowing Magnus to support some of his weight, taking the painful pressure from his ankle. Magnus can practically see him processing. Whatever had happened with the young man’s father, Alec is going through it all now in his mind.

As they ascend the stairs, a muffled sound grows louder and louder and Magnus turns his head with a frown, recognising the sound immediately as a heated argument behind closed doors. Alec lifts his head, frowns softly.

“They’re fighting again,” he says wearily, though his eyes betray a hint of anxiety.

The room Alec’s parents share is in the same corridor as their own, practically across the hall. As they near their own door, the raised voices become clearer.

“—is our son! How could you even suggest such a horrible thing?”

“It’s perfectly legal, Maryse! He _wants_ this!”

Alec flinches softly at that and Magnus casts him a sympathetic look, turning to one of widened eyes and shock at Maryse’s reply. “How _dare_ you lie right to my face! You think he would’ve brought Magnus here if he wanted you to force him into conversion therapy? Are you _blind_ or do you simply not care for your own son?!”

“Can we go?” whispers Alec and Magnus nods, fighting to keep his face from expressing too much pity. It wouldn't help.

He helps Alec into their room, obeys under Alec pushing him away, taking a step back and watching Alec limp to the bed, sinking onto the edge of the mattress and dropping his head into his hands. After a moment’s hesitation, Magnus follows him, kneels there on the floor in front of him.

“Will you let me look at your ankle?” he asks as gently as he can.

Alec looks to him with dark eyes. He has never looked more exhausted, but he nods his permission and Magnus gently prises Alec’s sock down. It’s sopping wet. He hadn’t even put shoes on when he fled his father. The skin on and around his ankle is red and pink, swelling badly, and Magnus winces softly as he considers how much worse it will look after an hour or two.

“Okay,” he murmurs, carefully concealing how bad it looks. “You should change into pyjamas. Maybe have a shower if you need to warm up quicker. I’ll get you some ice for your ankle, okay?” Alec doesn’t reply and Magnus narrows his eyes. “Alec…”

“I’m listening,” Alec says, almost entirely devoid of emotion. “I’ll have a shower.”

Magnus ducks his gaze, knowing that he won’t get Alec to be verbal simply by asking. He deserves to deal with this however he needs to. Whatever his father had said to him, what it was that made him run out into the snow with no preparation for the environment, he can keep his coping mechanisms and Magnus will withhold judgement.

So, he does what he can. He leaves to fetch some ice, because that is the best he can do at this point. His reluctance to leave Alec is outweighed only by his desire to help him. Whatever it takes, he is determined to help.

* * *

Alec undresses carelessly without Magnus in the room, leaving his soaked clothes in a trail over the floor as he makes his way to the bathroom.

He had told Magnus he would shower and, although he doesn’t feel like caring for himself in the slightest, he is a man of his word. For Magnus anyway. For Magnus, he would do anything. So, he stands on one foot, reluctant to put weight on his injured ankle, and he allows the burn of warm water to wash over him.

It hurts, but he doesn’t flinch. He deserves it for his foolishness.

The mirror above the sink is dripping condensation when he shuts the water off and hobbles out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist, Alec leans his hands heavily against the sink, bows his head. He is reluctant to face Magnus again, not wanting to see pity in his golden eyes.

What must Magnus think of him now? Alec had _run_. He ran from his father, from his future, from everything, losing himself in the snow with no plan to get back or to prevent himself freezing to death. Magnus had probably saved him from dying from exposure. Alec hated that he felt as though he needed to do that. Magnus owed him nothing and Alec owed him everything.

Stepping out the bathroom, he sees Magnus sat on the edge of the bed, illuminated by the lamps on their respective bedside tables. His eyes immediately come to Alec, fixing on his face. His gaze doesn’t once trail down to Alec’s practically naked body. Alec’s discarded clothes have been gathered up and placed in the laundry basket beside the wardrobe.

“You don’t have to tidy up after me,” Alec mutters, doing his best not to limp as he goes to take his pyjamas from the chest of drawers, avoiding looking at Magnus as he pulls his t-shirt on.

“It’s okay,” says Magnus and Alec clenches his jaw, wanting to yell at him and not understanding why. Magnus doesn’t deserve his anger.

He pulls his boxers on under his towel when it occurs to him that he hasn’t dressed in front of Magnus before, unwrapping the towel from himself and dropping it in the laundry basket when he’s decent. Magnus holds out a bundled tea towel to him as he approaches the bed and, in mild confusion, Alec takes it.

It’s freezing and Alec unwraps it to see a plastic, zip-lock bag filled with snow and chunks of ice from the machine on the fridge. Alec murmurs his thanks, sits on his side of the bed and bends his leg so he can press the cold compress to his swollen ankle. It hurts more than he would care to admit, especially to Magnus.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Magnus asks and his voice is so kind and it makes Alec want to scream.

He shakes his head. The anger isn’t for Magnus, but Magnus is the only one here. It wouldn’t be fair to take his frustrations out on the one person who has always been on his side and Alec refuses to do it.

It doesn’t stop him from grabbing the spare pillow and placing it purposefully between him and Magnus, rebuilding the partition that they had so slowly deconstructed. If he could build up his walls—both mentally and physically—then he couldn’t be needlessly cruel to someone who doesn’t deserve it.

Reaching out a hand, Alec flicks off his lamp, shifting himself down so his head can press to his remaining pillow. There is a moment of silence, of stillness. The mattress shifts behind him and the room is thrown into darkness as Magnus switches off his own light. It is better that way. Alec allows the tears to slip silently horizontally across his face.

He doesn’t want Magnus to see him cry. If Alec knows anything of Magnus’s nature, he will feel obligated to comfort Alec if he knows he’s crying. It’s just how he is. He’s _good_ , and Alec doesn’t deserve his kindness. Even after Magnus spent the entire day avoiding him, the second he believed Alec to be in danger, he ran out into the snow after him.

Alec doesn’t deserve a presence like that in his life.

The pillows partition at his back shifts and disappears and there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder; instead of being comforted, Alec feels his heart sink. It seems Magnus isn’t content to leave it like this tonight after all. “Alec, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but will you at least let me talk _to_ you?”

Alec sniffs back a sob, pressing the side of his head hard against his pillow. “I don’t know what you think that’ll do,” he utters, believing that Magnus is seeking to distract him and knowing it to be impossible. “I fucked up. If I hadn’t talked back to him… He’s going to disown me and drop me out of uni. Even if I get a student loan, it’ll barely cover my course… I’ll be fucking homeless, Magnus.”

“Alec, I will not let that happen,” says Magnus firmly and, by the tone of his voice, Alec realises he has struck too close to something Magnus is passionate about. It just makes him wonder more about his past. “We have a spare room. You can stay with my dad and I as long as you need to.”

Alec turns his head, stares at Magnus and hopes that the dark is enough to hide his tears. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” Magnus murmurs gently. “I know it’ll never be the same, I know I’m not your family, but I am here for you. We’re friends if nothing else... Okay, Alec?”

Alec nods shakily. “Okay...”

He reaches out in the darkness, finding Magnus and throwing his arms around his shoulders. Magnus huffs at the suddenness of it, but he hugs Alec back.

“Thank you,” Alec whispers into Magnus’s shoulder. He sniffs and wipes a hand under his nose, pulling back a little. “Fuck him,” he mutters, turns to flick his bedside lamp on. Warm light illuminates them and Alec can see Magnus’s expression, soft and kind and _beautiful_. “You’re my friend and he’s an asshole. I’m not cutting you out of my life. I don’t care what he threatens.”

“Alec, this isn’t about me.”

“No, it’s about _me_ ,” says Alec, swallows hard. “I won’t let him toy with me like that anymore. He’s always fucking doing that. Always threatening to throw me out or cut me off if I don’t do something. He did it to make me enrol at university, he did it to make me hide the marks. I’m not playing his games anymore.”

Magnus looks at him, his eyes gaining a morbid kind of realisation and Alec suddenly understands what he has said.

“Magnus, it’s fine. I don’t—”

“Alec," Magnus says, very slowly, "did he hurt you?”

It’s out of instinct when Alec shakes his head. “No, I… I’m fine. It’s fine. It’s not like he beats me or anything.”

“He doesn’t have to be almost killing you to be abusing you, Alec,” says Magnus. His hand touches Alec’s cheek. “Please… don’t dismiss your hardships because they may not match your expectations of abuse. It doesn’t have to be serious. It just has to be there. You’re a lawyer, Alec. Think about this from an outside perspective.”

Alec swallows hard, thinks of all the times in his life that his father had threatened to leave him with nothing. He thinks of his mother, how she had used to stop Robert from shouting at him or grabbing him when he was a child. As a boy, Alec hadn’t understood how life worked, hadn’t picked it all up as easily as Jace.

Girls liked boys and boys liked girls. Boys played with army men and trucks, and girls played with doll houses and barbies. One of his earliest memories is his father hitting him for asking Isabelle if two girl dolls could get married this time. _Don’t ever say anything like that again,_ Robert had snapped as he dragged Alec to his room and locked him inside.

Alec had screamed and cried, pounded on the door until his throat ached and his hands were red and sore. The others had forgotten; they had been younger than Alec at the time. His mother had snuck in a few hours later, hushed him and cradled his head as he cried.

_Boys and girls get married, Alec. Girls don’t marry girls, just like you wouldn’t want to marry a boy. Don’t talk about those things in front of your father._

“Fuck,” Alec whispers, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. He shakes his head, breathes away the tears. “Magnus, all this shit with my dad, it’s really… Look, I—I’m sorry about looking at your journal. I shouldn’t have—”

“Alec, it doesn’t matter,” says Magnus, runs a hand into Alec’s hair. “I overreacted, okay? I was just… I haven’t been sleeping and sometimes it makes me short-tempered.” He sighs and ducks his gaze. “I should’ve just told you… The journal used to be my mother’s. She wrote the inscription just before... well, before she died.”

Alec shakes his head, his heart sinking in his chest. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“Alec, you’re really vulnerable at the moment,” says Magnus. “I’m sorry, but your father is an awful person.”

Chuckling weakly, Alec wipes his hands to his eyes. “Yeah, he really is.”

“So, don’t apologise for the journal, because it doesn’t matter right now. Right now, I’m worried about you, okay?”

Alec grips his hands into his hair, his mind dragging him back to all those conversations with Magnus, sitting together in his apartment while Ragnor was out, all that talking on their journey to France. Magnus had opened his heart to him. “Fuck, what you said about spirits being tied to objects…" Alec remembers aloud, everything clicking into place suddenly. "That’s your mother’s journal. That's why you don't like people touching it. God, Magnus, I—”

“Hey,” Magnus says, firmer now, his hands to Alec’s wrists. “Look at me.”

Alec does so, sniffs back tears. Magnus wipes a thumb to his cheek, pushing them away.

“I didn’t want you to see the inscription because I was afraid of what you’d ask about it,” says Magnus. “Because my mother’s death… it was complicated and it led me to things I’m not fond of reliving. I was afraid that you’d… you’d think badly of me.” He shakes his head. “But I’m not afraid anymore. Any questions you have about me, about my past, I will answer in honesty. I will tell you everything.”

Alec shakes his head. “I don’t need to know if you don’t want to tell me. I already know you.”

Magnus sighs slowly and his eyes are sad and Alec can’t stand it. He doesn't like that someone so beautiful can emit such tragedy. “No, you don’t," he corrects, his voice so quiet. "I’m sorry, Alexander. You don’t know me.”

“Then I plan to get to know you,” says Alec, presses a hand to Magnus’s jaw. “Now, if you somehow still want me after all of this… then I want to hold you... If you'll let me.”

Magnus lifts his hands and his fingertips rest lightly upon Alec’s cheeks, a touch so soft that Alec simply closes his eyes, loses himself in it. Their foreheads rest together, such a gentle gesture on Magnus's part, a trait that Alec has grown to love in him.

“Hold me,” he says, and Alec does.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Alec and Magnus's showdown with Robert Lightwood, the pair struggle with their respective demons. Magnus makes an important decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to those of you who commented on the last chapter: @Verunka, @PhoenixStar73, @Vallier, @Nanuk08, @Tan27, @malecsnackariah, @Adaline_Blooms, @codenamepenguin, @Malecfan09, and @Malecislife!
> 
> Not 100% happy with this chapter, but I hate keeping you guys waiting!

Wakefulness comes like the storm outside, first in a trickle, then a downpour, and Magnus blinks his eyes open in confusion.

He is lying on his front, his arms tucked under his head. His pillow is on the floor, apparently fallen off sometime in the night, and Magnus pushes himself up with a strained groan, his muscles aching. It isn’t uncommon. Lack of sleep has so many physical effects that those who don’t experience it can’t always appreciate. Magnus hurts all the time.

The wind howls and the sky is dark like the night. Beside him, the bed is empty. Magnus frowns softly, reaches a hand out across the unoccupied sheets. They are lukewarm beneath his palm.

He is debating getting up to search for his wayward roommate—for lack of, and confusion over the allowances of, a better title—, when a soft click reaches his ears and Magnus rolls onto his back to see the door open. Alec enters, a mug in each hand, pushing the door shut with one foot kicking out behind him. A wan smile turns his lips when he sees Magnus is awake.

“Hey,” he says, wanders over to put the mug on Magnus’s bedside table. “Latte.”

“Oh, thank you,” Magnus utters, rubs the sleep from his eyes as he sits upright. “It’s dark out there, isn’t it? Is it even morning?”

“It’s just stormy. It’s about half past nine,” Alec tells him as he walks around the end of the bed to return to his own side.

It hasn’t escaped Magnus’s attention, even in his sleepy state, that Alec is limping. Midway through a sip of latte, he tilts his head in query. “How’s your ankle?”

The hesitation must only be a microsecond long, but Magnus is listening for it. “It’s okay,” says Alec.

Magnus doesn’t want to push him or to panic him, but, equally, he wants Alec to be healthy and safe and that takes precedent over everything. “Can I see?” he asks, and Alec nods in nonchalant acceptance, shifting in the bed so he can bring his hurt ankle to Magnus’s side.

There’s a misshapen lump there under his jean leg. Magnus severely hopes it isn’t his ankle making that shape.

Moving slowly so as not to hurt him, Magnus gently pushed the leg of Alec’s jeans halfway up his shin, pushing his sock down an inch or two, hesitating when Alec shudders a badly concealed wince. Uttering a soft apology gets him nothing but a shake of Alec’s head, so he elects not to press.

The lump turns out to be a zip lock bag of snow that Alec has tied to his leg with what appears to be a fabric headband, black with red flower patterns. Magnus takes a guess that it belongs to Isabelle. He wonders briefly if she knows Alec has taken it, then decides that Alec is likely incapable of theft.

The ankle itself doesn’t look good. Magnus prays that it is simply a bad sprain rather than a fracture or a break. The swelling has gone down a little from last night, but the bruises have darkened angrily, a stark contrast to Alec’s naturally pale skin.

“Maybe we should go to A and E,” Magnus says with a soft frown, looking to Alec, who has blank eyes fixed on his injured ankle. “Just to make sure it’s not broken?”

Alec shakes his head, shifts himself back to rest against the pillows propped up on the headboard. His mug is on the table at his bedside, untouched. “No, I… I’d rather not.”

Magnus blinks to smooth his expression, keeping his face carefully guarded to avoid pity. “Okay,” he says, very deliberate with his words. “Alec, you… you know that you don’t need to be ashamed by this, don’t you? It was a natural reaction to a bad situation. The things your father threatened you with—”

Alec drops his head into his hands, cutting Magnus off with a shaking breath. “I just feel so stupid,” he whispers and Magnus’s eyes narrow. “I thought he was just being like this because he didn’t understand that it was serious. I thought… I thought that he just assumed I was being difficult and that I didn’t mean it. I thought I could prove my sexuality to him somehow.” He shakes his head again, sniffs. “I just made everything worse.”

His head lifts, his eyes fixing on Magnus, who almost flinches back when he sees the young man is crying. Hazel irises shine like polished copper and Alec's breaths come shallow and shaky.

“Magnus, I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, hey,” Magnus soothes, placing his hands to Alec’s cheeks, his thumbs wiping at his tears. “Don’t apologise to me.”

Alec’s lower lip trembles. “I should never have brought you here,” he utters tearfully. “It was selfish of me. You don’t deserve to be stuck here.” His gaze drifts a little, averting his eyes from Magnus’s own. “I know our plane tickets are due for tomorrow morning, but maybe you should go home today… I’m sure my father will buy you a ticket. He doesn’t want you here.”

Struggling not to find offence in the implications of that, Magnus cants his head. “Do _you_ want me here, Alec?”

“I don’t want you to have to deal with my family anymore,” Alec utters. “I know you had a shouting match with my dad. Jace told me.” Magnus glances away, jaw clenched because Lightwood’s apparently could _not_ keep their mouths shut. “Why would you do that? He’s not a man who lets things like that slide, Magnus. I… I don’t know what he’ll do, but I don’t want you around him anymore.”

Magnus frowns, realisation coming to him slowly. “You’re afraid for me.”

Alec inhales, shaky and anxious, and Magnus’s eyes narrow. “Magnus, my mother is a lawyer. My dad pays attention to her at least sometimes. If you add that to him being a barely closeted racist, then…” He trails and gives Magnus a hesitant look. “I don’t know what he’s capable of anymore…”

Magnus takes a moment to consider what Alec is saying to him. “Oh,” he says, because, for the first time in years, he’s finding it hard to articulate. He takes a breath to steady himself. “I see you’ve taken a page from your brother’s book in making assumptions.”

Alec’s eyes widen. “Magnus, I didn’t mean to suggest…”

“I know,” says Magnus when Alec pauses and fails to continue, entirely uncertain of what he is feeling. “I said I’d tell you and I will. I’d like to be sure first that you understand not all immigrants should be treated as criminals.”

“I know that,” Alec whispers, like he’s ashamed of himself. “I know you had a difficult childhood. I can’t even imagine—”

“No, you can’t,” interrupts Magnus, recognising that he is angry now and pausing to control his temper. He exhales hard, lowers his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Alec shakes his head, says nothing, but Magnus can feel the regret coming from him. It isn’t Alec’s fault, he tells himself. The Lightwood’s were brought up a certain way, in a house where anything different was met with shame and ridicule, and perfection and normality were valued before anything else. It is remarkable for Alec to have come even this far.

The storm is louder now, the wind screaming, snow pounding the windows in dull, yet heavy thumps. Breathing out slowly, Magnus turns back to take the journal from his bedside table, unbuckling it and opening the cover to the first page. He runs a light touch over the inscription.

“I didn’t want you to see this, because of what I told you of my mother,” Magnus utters, swallows hard. “Because of how she was towards the end…” He tapped the inscription with his finger, looked to Alec. “This doesn’t make any sense to me. I’ve read it over and over and I’ve tried to understand it, but I can’t.”

Alec frowns, shakes his head and Magnus knows what he’s going to say.

“She didn’t love me,” says Magnus before Alec can try and assure him of otherwise. “She just didn’t. The only reason she didn’t let my stepfather kill me was because I was hers, because everything she went through to bring me into this world should have _meant_ something.”

His tone is becoming angered again, frustrated by the nonsensical inscription, and he closes the journal, sighs long and hard. Alec’s hand came to his arm and Magnus finds himself continually amazed by Alec’s ability to push aside his own problems in favour of comforting others.

“Magnus,” he utters softly and Magnus shakes his head.

“He raped her,” he says in a whisper, letting the words spill out, speaking them aloud for the first time in so many years. “My father. He…” Unable to bring himself to say it again, Magnus just clenched his hands into fists in his lap. “And I was nothing but a constant reminder of that. She looked at me and she saw the result of what he did to her… How could she ever love that?”

Alec lowers his eyes, swallows so hard that Magnus sees his throat convulse. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asks, though he must surely know the answer.

A weak chuckle leaves Magnus’s lips. “Because I didn’t want you to look at me like that… because my stepfather blamed my mother’s mental health on the event and, since my father wasn’t around for him to blame, he turned it on me.” He closed his eyes, a hand over his shoulder; he could almost still feel the cane on his back. “He hit me a lot when I was a child, but that wasn’t the worst of it.”

“It wasn’t?” says Alec, so quiet.

The storm outside rages and Magnus closes his eyes at the sound of the wind and the whirling snow, so similar to the storms of the sea. He wills himself not to digress. “It’s…” he begins, swallows hard. “It’s too dark in here. Would you mind if I—?”

Alec cuts him off by leaning over and turning his bedside lamp on, filling the room with a warm glow. The bed moves as he shifts himself forward, and Magnus breathes shakily when pale hands close over his own. It only occurs to him then that his breathing had become very fast and quite shallow.

“Hey,” Alec says. “You’re with me, okay?” Magnus nods, but it apparently isn’t all that convincing. “Magnus, I want you to try and breathe a little slower. Can you do that for me?”

Magnus swallows hard and tightens his hold on Alec’s hands, bows his head and forces his chest into rising and falling at a more regulated pace.

“Have you taken your medication this morning?” asks Alec and Magnus shakes his head slowly. “Let me get it for you, okay? Stay here. It’s in the bathroom, right?”

Again, Magnus replies non-verbally, simply nods. Alec hurries off to the side and Magnus is free to curse softly out of his earshot, hating himself for letting this happen, for slipping into panic so easily. It wasn’t even _that_ dark in the room. There was still light from outside, diminished though it may be from the thick cloud layer and the blizzard of snow.

“It’s not designed to help when I have an attack, y’know,” he muttered when Alec returned with the packet of pills Magnus kept in his makeup bag.

“I know,” says Alec. “I looked them up. You should still take one.” He watches Magnus take some shaky sips of his latte, taking a pill on the third or fourth. “We don’t have to talk about this all at once, Magnus. You can take your time. You don’t have to tell me everything right now.”

Magnus nods, holding the latte in his hands, just trying to warm himself. “I know, we have… we have time… I expect you’re hoping to avoid your father today,” he says, regretting it when Alec’s expression falls. “I am too…”

There is a moment of quiet, broken only by the raging storm. “My relationship with him is beyond repair,” says Alec, his voice dull again now. “The things he said…” He scoffs suddenly, bitterness seeping through in the sound. “God, he even had the nerve to attack _you_. He talked about you like you were a criminal, like you came to America by illegal methods. He doesn’t even _know_ you and he just assumed the worst.”

Magnus says nothing to that. For the longest time, he says nothing at all.

It’s time now, he reflects, because he would get no better segue into telling Alec of his past, of his journey from that frightened child in a lopsided shack in Indonesia to the man he became under Ragnor’s patience and guidance in their Brooklyn apartment. Alec deserves the truth and it has to come from Magnus.

It has to come now.

“Alec,” he says, very slowly, and waits until the dark eyes rest on his face before he continues, “your father’s right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not what you think, folks!  
> (or maybe it is? I don't know what you're thinking...)


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Magnus's past shows how he came to live in Brooklyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @Nanuk08, @Tan27, @jinxie86, @Maryliz2121, @Malecfan09, and @codenamepenguin (I'd love to address your suggestion, so if you could tell me more about it then that'd be great - I've done a proper ask in a reply to your comment on the last chapter, so feel free to use that thread if you like)!
> 
> WARNING: I am covering issues of modern slavery in this chapter. I've tried to address this as well as I can, but please bear in mind this is from the perspective of a child, so things that will be very clear to us won't always be obvious to him.
> 
> Take care of yourselves and be kind to yourselves

As a child, Magnus had been afraid from the moment he discovered the meaning of the word.

He heard often of his birth father, but never once from his mother’s lips. His stepfather had spared no detail in informing Magnus of what a terrible man his father had been, how he had committed a grave sin to bring Magnus into the world. Somehow, although he had no choice in the matter, this was Magnus’s fault.

His mother would stare at him sometimes, like she was seeing a ghost. Towards the end of her life, she told him how much he looked like his father and, after being told so often and so sternly what his father was like, Magnus’s greatest fear was becoming like him in personality as well as appearance.

Cursed with his father’s eyes— _the devil’s eyes_ , his stepfather would snarl, though that was due to their gold hue rather than any relation to his father—, life for Magnus was nothing but a series of beatings and insults and withheld meals. His stepfather kept a long stick of bamboo within arm’s reach almost constantly, so that he might dole out punishment whenever he deemed it necessary.

All the while, his mother’s mental health was getting worse and worse. Sometimes she would cry while her son was beaten. Sometimes she urged her husband along, falling into his deranged talk of possession and demons. It was never clear how she would react to a situation. Her mood changed as flippantly and ferociously as the weather around the island they called home.

She attacked him herself sometimes, more deadly than his stepfather had ever been. Entrusting him with an unused journal had been a light in her ever-consuming darkness and, for the first time perhaps ever, Magnus felt hope that things might improve. That very night, he found her stabbed to death in her bed.

It was her own hand that had held the blade.

It wasn’t long after that, barely a week in fact, when his stepfather told him he would be sending Magnus away. For a nine-year-old who had known nothing but pain, it seemed a blessing to be free of it. He should have known better. He should have _known_.

His stepfather took him to a farm, or what Magnus had deemed a farm as a child. He had shaken a man’s hand, accepted a cheque, and left Magnus there without a word of farewell. The man had taken Magnus’s arm, dragged him to a long, decrepit buildings where he went obediently through a trail of rooms. Dead-eyed elders stripped him naked and replaced the clothes his mother had made with ones that matched their own, a grey cotton shirt and dark trousers that hung loose on Magnus’s slim frame.

They let him keep his mother’s journal. He had nothing to write with and he could barely spell his own name, so it meant nothing to them.

It wasn’t just a farm the man owned. Magnus heard tales that he also had control of a clothing factory and a quarry, though he never saw the quarry. Magnus worked on the farm first, harvesting rice crops and soybeans. The people in charge hit him sometimes, but that was nothing new.

Early in his time there, he was told that the police would come and take him away if he didn’t work hard enough. They told him that it was illegal for him not to have a passport. He slept three hours every night, huddling himself on the floor with the others who worked there. Magnus wondered if they had found themselves without their family too.

After two years, he was taken to the factory. The man his stepfather had paid was there to greet him, told him that he had been promoted for his hard work and that, in another two years, he might have earned passage to a better place. Magnus knew nothing of this. He asked, though he suspected he shouldn’t and the man had frowned at him.

“Your father told you nothing of where you were going?” he queried and Magnus had shaken his head. “Oh, my dear boy, you’ve been in my employ for two years without knowing what you were working for? You’re to go to America, child.”

Magnus stared up at him. “America,” he repeated, having only heard the country in idle chatter of his stepfather and his colleagues. It was always mentioned in a positive way.

“Yes,” the owner had told him. “Once we can find a family to take you in and once your wages add up to cover the travel cost, you’ll be on your way.” He glanced around, leaned to Magnus’s level, dropped his voice as though in secret. “Not a lot of people get this opportunity, but you’re a resourceful boy, aren’t you? I heard how you cared for your mother when she was ailing. You’re designed for domestic work, aren’t you?”

“I… Yes, sir,” said Magnus, because that appeared safest. He had not enjoyed caring for his mother at times, but he had done so regardless.

The man smiled at him. “Your new family will be pleased for that indeed. I’m sure you’ll be very happy with them… provided you do as you’re told, of course.”

It was a strange relationship that Magnus had with the man, simply because it was so brief. His visits were few and far between, presumably flitting between his businesses to ensure all was running smoothly. He never struck Magnus, never said a bad word towards him. He seemed kind, somehow, kinder than his stepfather anyway, kinder than the underbosses in his employ.

With the promise of a new life in the back of his mind, Magnus worked. He packed clothes others had made, he stitched logos onto fabric, he closed seams with sewing machines, working his way up the factory hierarchy, hoping that he might someday compile enough of his wages to pay his way to a new life; to a _family_.

It was at the end of summer almost two years later when the man returned to him with a smile and a kind hand. “It’s time,” he said. “We found a family for you in America, an elderly lady who finds herself in need of help. She will treat you fairly and you will be happy there. Do you want that?”

Magnus had nodded, believing it to be little difference from his original home life, believing that this was what family meant. Family was an exchange of goods; light labour for shelter and food. Everywhere he went, Magnus earned his keep.

“The journey may be unpleasant at times, but it is the best we could do on account of your wages,” the man said and Magnus, child that he was, blamed himself for not working harder.

Even as they were pushing him into a small shipping container at the docks, he knew it was his fault that he had not complied enough to give himself different passage. Even as the container jolted and shook as it was hauled aboard the ship, Magnus blamed his own lack of industrial prowess. Even as the storm battered the ship and Magnus shivered in his own sick and filth for a full month, eating and drinking what was shoved into the container at irregular intervals, he thought that it was what he deserved.

He realised only after what all of it meant, the transaction between his stepfather and the man in charge, the fact that he never saw a single penny of what he earned at the farm or the factory, his travel in a metal box on a cargo ship. Months later, when Ragnor sat him down with a therapist and a translator and encouraged him to tell his story, and they looked at him with pity and sympathy, he knew something was wrong about what he had said.

The therapist had told the translator, and they had explained it to him. _Slavery_ was a foreign word to Magnus at that time, even spoken in his own language. He had vague memories of hearing it whispered among the other workers at the farm and the factory. Some of them had known at least. None had ever told him.

Perhaps they had wished to spare him from the terrible truth.

* * *

When Magnus finishes speaking, he is met with only silence.

Alec, sits cross-legged on the end of the bed in front of him, and says nothing for a long moment. That fear rises again, that age-old emotion, that Alec will think poorly of him now. Before he had started to talk of his past, he had told Alec that his father was right, that he was a criminal.

In Magnus’s mind, at least, he believes it so. He had not come to America legally after all. It might not have been his doing, but he had still remained in the country rather than go back. Indonesia had nothing for him. Sending him back would mean him falling victim to the trade again. Another bout of it and he may not have survived.

“Say something,” Magnus pleads softly.

Alec doesn’t, at least for a second or two. When he finally looks to Magnus, his eyes are heavy and sad. “You’re not a criminal,” he says, very certain. “It wasn't your fault, Magnus. You said at the start that my father was right, but he’s not. He has no idea what you’ve been through. I… _I_ had no idea…” He reaches for Magnus’s hand, holding him tightly. “I’m so sorry…”

Magnus shakes his head, but he lets Alec hold him. It’s a comfort.

“Your triggers,” begins Alec, hesitant as though he doesn’t want to risk upsetting Magnus.

“The dark,” Magnus says, “it’s because of the ship… and you know about my mother, so you know that the sight of blood sometimes makes me…” He trails. “Loud noises will sometimes be all it takes… When I was found… Well, the police raided the ship on account of a drug trafficking tip. The sound of their dogs and all the shouting and that noise when they forced the container open…”

He lowers his gaze, struggling to speak of that, and further wondering if he should divulge another snippet of information. It could do no harm.

“The officer who found me… it was Luke Garroway; that’s Clary’s stepdad.”

Alec takes pause at that. “So, Clary… Clary knows? About what happened to you?”

Magnus gives a small shrug, just the slightest lift of one shoulder. “Not all of it.” He swallows, sighs. “Luke was assigned my case. Ragnor was a friend of his and he regularly fostered a lot of kids who were struggling with the care homes. He took me in and they both helped me through the legal processes, helped fight people who wanted to send me back home.”

“Seems like they won,” says Alec, so gently. “You’re here.”

Magnus nods, more grateful than ever for Alec, for his kindness and his understanding, his ability to care for others even when he doesn’t care for himself. He wishes the latter wasn’t so, but it is something Alec will need to realise and work through in his own time. Magnus won’t push him.

“I live in America legally,” he says, needing Alec to know, because Alec was in law school and he would know how these things worked. “I was granted asylum and, when that period ran out, I took and passed my citizenship test.”

Alec shakes his head. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Magnus… I’m just glad you’re safe.”

It is a tear-inducing sentiment, but Magnus blinks back the sting at his eyes. The mattress shifts and Magnus lifts his gaze to see Alec pushing himself closer. His free hand—the one not holding Magnus’s own—lifts to cradle the back of his head, pulls him forward just a fraction so Alec can press a chaste kiss to his brow.

“You made it,” he utters and Magnus breathes shakily, closing his eyes. “I know you were worried about telling me, but I need you to know that I don’t think any less of you. If anything, it’s the opposite… I wish you never had to go through what you have, but you did. You’re so brave.”

Magnus tries to laugh, but it comes in a shaky sob. “I’m a mess,” he whispers and there is no stopping the tears now.

“Don’t,” chides Alec, pressing their foreheads together, his fingers stroking at the back of Magnus’s head. His presence is so calming. “Don’t say that. You’re so beautiful… You’ve come so far and I am in awe of you.”

Though he feels like sobbing again, Magnus manages to simply click his tongue. “Stop,” he protests, though his voice is fond and holds no heat.

When he had first become acquainted with Alec—the real Alec—he had thought that his soul blazed like the sun, so hot and so strong despite the hardships of his family. Now, he sees he was mistaken. Alec doesn’t burn. Alec _glows_. Alec is a candle in the night, a hearth in a home, a light in the dark.

“I want us to be gone from this place,” murmurs Alec, pressing his head a little more against Magnus’s own. “I want to get you back home to your dad.”

Magnus squeezes his hand. “You don’t have to treat me differently now, Alec. I’m not a child anymore.”

Alec huffs softly. “No, it’s not because of what you told me,” he says. “I said before that I wished you could be free of this stupid trip and I meant it… I’d like to go back too. I never wanted to come in the first place. I want to take you home.” He sighs, shakes his head. “I want you to be happy, Magnus. That’s all I really want.”

“God, you’re just perfect, aren’t you?” Magnus murmurs, lifts his hands to hold Alec’s head. “I know this isn’t the time for it, but I need to tell you before I lose my courage… Alexander, I love you. I really do. I know it took me too long to figure it out and I know you might not feel the same—”

“I love you too,” says Alec in soft interruption, “and I am far from perfect… You know that better than anyone.”

Magnus hums as he considers that, thinks back to what he said to Ragnor before he had even met Alec. It seems like a lifetime ago now. “I don’t want perfection,” he echoes the quiet sentiment of his own words. “I want life—and you, Alexander… you make me feel so alive.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec struggles to let go of Magnus's past and, upon hearing raised voices downstairs, he fears his own is threatening to destroy his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to those who commented on the last chapter: @malecsnackariah, @malec0305, @Nanuk08, @Vallier, @Maryliz2121, Tan27, @Malecfan09, and @codenamepenguin. This is a little less heavy and hopefully you'll be glad to see a certain someone get their comeuppance.

Outside, the storm rages.

Huge fist-sized clumps of snow pound the windows and the roof. The clouds roil and cluster thickly in the sky and a low rumble of thunder will break through the steady thump of falling snow. Any more of this and they will be snowed in. Alec can’t find room in his heart to care all that much right now.

Magnus is in his arms, face buried against the side of Alec’s neck, his breathing coming steady, but forcibly so. Alec just holds him, needs him to be close. He would hold him forever if he could.

“You can let me go y’know,” says Magnus, though his voice is muffled against Alec’s neck.

“Oh, sorry,” Alec utters, releasing him with a weak smile.

Magnus lifts his gaze to meet Alec’s own and, for a moment, it’s as if they share a mind. “It was a long time ago, Alec,” says Magnus, “and I will never fully recover from it. There _is_ no recovering. I’ll never stop remembering what it was like, but I’ve worked really hard to come out the other side. I’d be grateful if you didn’t erase that by treating me like I’m helpless again.”

“No, I… I’m sorry, I was just trying to help.”

The look Magnus gives him then is sympathetic, if not a little chiding. “The most you can do is to let me be me.” He strokes a thumb across Alec’s cheek, his touch soft and tender, and Alec closed his eyes, leaning to head to Magnus’s hand. “I know you’ll have the urge to treat me differently, but I really couldn’t stand it if you did. Can you understand that…?”

Alec nods, allows his eyes to open again. “I understand… I—I’ll try.”

Magnus lowers his gaze, smiles softly, sadly almost. Alec’s heart breaks a little for him, but he is careful not to show it. Surely, he can’t be expected to forget Magnus’s past completely, but he’s happy to keep from speaking of it since that’s what Magnus wants.

“Alexander,” says Magnus and, as Alec lifts his head, Magnus’s fingers come beneath his chin. “So sad, my darling…”

Alec shakes his head. “I don’t mean to—”

“Hush,” utters Magnus and he leans forward, lips first.

His mouth is soft. There is a hint of cherry upon his lips, a gloss that Alec hesitantly licks into, wishing to be near him, to _taste_ him. Magnus moans into a soft gasp, his lips parting in an eagerness that stirs something in Alec, something instinctual and animalistic and he lifts both hands to clasp at Magnus’s neck.

There is a tenderness to it that they both crave. Magnus is gorgeous and his kiss bursts fireworks behind closed eyes and Alec is lost with him. Alec had never liked feeling lost; he always knew what he was and what he had to do. He is happy to lose himself in Magnus, however.

“Magnus,” he murmurs in a shaky gasp, his thumbs pushing at Magnus’s jaw to guide him back. “I… It’s always been very clear what I needed to do to make my family tolerate me.”

Magnus shakes his head. “We don’t need to talk about that.”

“No, I… I just…” He swallows hard. “I need to be clear with you. I’ve never been able to go after what I want. I’ve never been in a relationship because I’ve never had the freedom to date who I wanted. I don’t know who I am, Magnus… I’m sorry, but I needed to be honest with you.”

“Oh, Alec,” utters Magnus, his hand reaching up to Alec’s face, skating the pad of his thumb over his cheekbone. “That is one of the precise reasons I am so enamoured with you. Your honesty—transcending our first meetings—is your most admirable attribute.”

Alec finds himself smiling. “Why do you talk like that?” he asks.

A returning smile has him flushed, but he hides it with a bow of his head and an absent hand pushing the hair from his face. “Do you not like it?” Magnus asks, gracing him with a fond, though impudent grin. “I went to the effort of learning the language. I may as well use as much of it as I can.”

Once again, Alec ducks his head, though this time from desire to hide his expression twisting at the reminder of Magnus’s past hardships. He’s been through so much. Alec’s awe of him knows no bounds. He will be careful not to express that, however, since Magnus is so opposed to it.

“I like it,” he says, his eyes low. “I like everything about you.”

Magnus ducks his head, a faint smile turning his lips. “Flatterer,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck.

There is a commotion from out in the hall and cause them both to cast attention to the door in confusion.

It sounds like something heavy being pushed down the stairs followed quickly by raised voices. Alec frowns his concern, sitting up properly on the bed. He worries a moment that someone might have fallen, but the continuation of voices lifted in anger and not panic gives him pause.

“What’s happening out there?” he wonders aloud, pushing himself up and heading for the door.

“Alec,” Magnus says behind him, his voice anxious, but Alec waves a dismissive hand and continues on his path.

When he exits the room, he can hear that it’s his mother and she’s yelling. The words aren’t quite discernible, but Alec recognises the rage behind them. It is unmistakable. He has heard it so many times before. She and his father fought often. In fact, some of Alec’s earliest childhood memories were distracting Isabelle while their parents had a shouting match in the next room.

It is a familiar sound, but now, instead of hiding from it, Alec walks its direction. At the top of the stairs, Alec puts his hand to the bannister, making his way down in carefully placed footsteps.

“—had been honest with us to start with then none of this would have happened,” Jace is saying sullenly. He has his arms crossed, like he finds the whole situation very uncomfortable.

“Don’t put this on Alec,” snaps Isabelle, opposite him. They are situated in a kind of rough line, his mother in the middle, facing Robert, who stands in front of the door. “He’s been through enough.”

“Brought it all on himself,” says Robert with an air of lazy nonchalance.

It seems as though his mother might speak, but Alec doesn’t want to hear her agree with her husband. “Mother,” he says to cut them short and the group turns to him.

His father’s eyes are narrowed in anger. His siblings exchange an awkward look, turning their attention back on Alec with nothing short of pity. His mother’s expression is full of sympathy. Alec’s heart sinks right down in his chest because none of this looks the least bit encouraging.

“Alec,” Maryse utters, “you might want to go back upstairs, okay? You don’t have to be here for this.”

“Oh, I think he should be,” grumbles Robert and Maryse shoots him a look that Alec doesn’t see.

Alec sweeps a level glance across his family. “Is this… Is this about me?” He is granted no reply and he clutches a little tighter at the stair bannister. “If this is a debate on whether to force me into therapy or kick me out, then I can make that decision for myself.” His statement is met with several wide-eyed stares. “I’d rather be on the fucking streets—”

“You watch your language with me,” Robert snaps and Alec swallows hard, ducks his gaze in that instinctive flood of obedience.

Maryse whirls on him with such a venomous rage, that Robert physically reels back like she’s slapped him. “Do _not_ speak to him. Don’t you dare even look at him!” She points to the door and, for the first time, Alec sees the bags gathered there by the front door. “Get out, now.”

Those words, Alec had expected. What he had never thought, never in a million years, was that they weren’t for him. Maryse is shouting at her husband, at Alec’s father. Those words are for him. For the longest time, he can do nothing but stare, at the anger in his mother, at the tightness of his father’s expression. _Robert_ had been expecting this, at least.

“This is your last chance to rethink what you’re doing,” says Robert, facing down his wife and their children. He ignores Alec completely, looking to his daughter as if seeking support. “Isabelle—”

“Oh, you’ll get no sympathy from me,” Isabelle growls, crossing her arms over her chest.

Robert clenches his jaw, looks to Jace. “You were as against this as I am.”

“I was not _against_ this,” says Jace falteringly. “I was stupid. The only reason I didn’t like it was because I didn’t hear it from Alec first. I was so blinded by my goddamn pride that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I couldn’t see that my father was homophobic and so was I.”

“Jace,” Alec utters, shakes his head because he doesn’t want to hear that.

“No, it’s true,” Jace says, turns to him with wide, sad eyes. “I was an asshole and I hurt you and I’m sorry.” His gaze drifted past Alec’s shoulder and, if it was possible, his eyes fill with a deeper regret. “Magnus…”

All eyes turn then—Alec’s included—and see that Magnus has come down the stairs. He halts at Alec’s side, places a hand to the small of his back. Although Alec must admit he is comforted by the man's presence, he wishes desperately that Magnus didn't feel the need to be here for him like this.

“What’s going on?” he asks Alec in a low murmur and Alec shakes his head, honestly too dumbfounded to answer.

“Sweetheart,” Maryse says and Alec looks to her, feeling as though he might cry at any moment, “we will talk about this, okay? Later. Please, just go back upstairs. Let me deal with your father and I’ll come and see you in a minute.”

All at once, Alec is a child again. He feels that instinctual urge to do as his mother says, to hide in his room and muffle his sobs into his pillow. He had not been a happy child and his parents had been wary of him because of it, because it made him different. He isn’t happy even now. He wonders if that’s the reason his father hates him so much.

“Alec,” Magnus is saying in his ear, leaned close to him. Alec vaguely registers that his father is tense and his eyes blazing. “Maybe we _should_ go. You don’t have to listen to this.”

“I don’t understand,” says Alec, and his voice comes quieter than he planned. He sounds _small_ , like a child.

He is lost again.

His father huffs. “There’s a surprise.”

That is apparently his mother’s breaking point. She approaches her husband with a fury that has him stumbling back, but she seems to pay him no mind. Breezing right past him, she goes to the door and wrenches it open, proceeds to take the bags stacked there and thrust them out. They thunder down the steps at the front of the lodge and land in a graceless heap on the concrete of the driveway. The snow is still coming down out there, the skies so darkly clouded.

Maryse turns to her husband, perfectly calm, and Robert swallows so hard that Alec sees his throat convulse.

“Get out,” says Maryse, so quietly that Alec almost doesn’t hear. “Leave this house and do not come back. I will gladly deal with your assistant, but if you try to contact our children again, I promise you, I will see that you regret it.”

Robert opens and closes his mouth dumbly, casts a quick glance to Alec, narrows his eyes and takes a breath as if to speak.

“Don’t,” Maryse warns, sharper now. “You will not have the last word. Leave.”

He does. It surprises Alec more than anything else this week. Robert Lightwood lifts his head high, like he’s trying to maintain whatever semblance of pride he is clinging to, and stalks out the front door. It swings shut behind him with a heart-dropping kind of finality and Alec’s feels his legs shake and give out beneath him.

Magnus’s hands are on him, easing him down, and he sinks to the stairs with his face buried in his hands. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t even feel like crying. At first, he feels as though a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Then the guilt hits him, the shock that he could feel so relieved at his father’s departure is like something has his heart in a vice.

“It’s okay,” Magnus is saying in his ear and his arms are around Alec’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Alec, breathe.” His hand is rubbing circles on Alec’s back. “Alexander, breathe now, okay? Just breathe a little deeper for me. It’s going to be okay.”

Alec feels his chest shudder, fighting to do as Magnus asks, and only now realising how shallow his breaths are coming. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, because that’s what he’s supposed to say. It’s what he’s always says. He spends his life apologising. “I—I’m sorry. I…”

“Don’t,” Magnus says simply, kisses the crown of his head.

Shaking his head, Alec shoves his hair back with both hands, just entirely unsure of what to do, what to say. Magnus apparently doesn’t need him to say anything. He just sits at Alec’s side on the stairs, sharing in his silence, holding Alec against his side like he’s prepared to stay here with him forever.

“Jace, Izzy, go and… go and do something else,” says Maryse and his mother’s voice comes softly. “I need to speak to your brother.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec finally has a proper conversation with his mother and Maryse does her best to make amends for past behaviour. Alec and Magnus prepare for the journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @caffeinatedmoo, @Cptkai_87, @malec0305, @catt021, @Malecfan09, @Nanuk08, @Maryliz2121, @Tan27, @jinxie86, @codenamepenguin, and @Vallier for your comments on the last chapter!

“Do you want me to leave?” Magnus asks and, even as he says it, he feels his throat stick.

He doesn’t want to leave, of course. He wants Alec to be alright and he needs to ensure that Maryse isn’t going to ridicule him in any way.

Jace and Isabelle are departing the room now, heading off to the main dining room. It doesn’t escape Magnus’s attention that they don’t roam far. They are as concerned for Alec as he is.

“Stay,” whispers Alec, muffled against the palms of his hands, still pressed to his face.

Magnus’s heart breaks for him.

“No, I think you should stay,” Maryse says gently, clearly assuming that Magnus had been speaking to her.

In truth, Magnus isn’t sure who he was talking to. Both of them, he supposes. Maryse has been kind to him, as much as she could be, at least in Magnus’s opinion. Alec had described his mother as jaded and aloof and, at their initial meeting, she had been just that. It feels as though Magnus has been watching her grow over the past week, watching her realise the effect that this whole ordeal has had on Alec.

The man in question is breathing a little easier beside him now, and Magnus places a hand to the small of his back, pressing there gently. They look so much alike, Alec and his mother. Magnus is glad that she’s back supporting him, taking control and initiative, doing what Alec had felt as though he didn’t have the authority to do.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” he murmurs and Magnus shakes his head.

“Whatever you’re feeling,” he begins, ensuring his voice comes as gentle as possible, “it’s normal, okay? This had been a lot to take in all at once. You’re entitled to your emotions, whatever they are.”

Alec tilts his head to Magnus’s shoulder, resting against him. “You sound like your dad, you know that?”

A soft smile turns Magnus’s lips. It always makes him happy when someone compares him to his dad; Ragnor is what he aspires to be. No one has ever treated him as well as Ragnor Fell did when they first met—and every moment since. Alec must know that much. He’s getting smooth with his compliments.

“Alec,” Maryse says and both turn their attention to her. She’s beside the stairs, holding a pillar of the bannister. “Will you talk to me, sweetheart?”

Alec looks to her, nods and pushes himself up from the stairs. Magnus stands with him. His hand is still resting on the small of Alec’s back, but he doesn’t take it away. Alec’s mother leads them to the enclosed snug of sofas and chairs, sinks to one of the armchairs and dropping her head into one hand, her elbow braced against the arm of the chair.

Magnus’s chooses the sofa, sits Alec closest to Maryse, himself directly beside Alec. It feels a little strange to be here, considering what just happened was very firmly a family matter. Maryse kicking her husband out of their holiday home was a drama that neither Magnus, nor Alec, had been expecting.

“Mom,” Alec says and his voice sounds like that of a child. “What happened? What was… What _was_ that?”

“That was me,” says Maryse, lifting her head, “finally opening my eyes.” She leans forward in the chair, holding a hand out, an offer. Alec takes it. “Alec, I am so sorry. I knew what kind of man your father was, but I didn’t want to think about it. I tried to pretend I didn’t know what he was capable of and I should’ve protected you. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to do something about it.”

Alec swallows hard, his eyes low. “Did you know?” he asks, his voice tight.

A shot of sorrow narrows her eyes and Maryse shakes her head. “No, sweetheart… No, I didn’t know about the therapy. I should have guessed it. The way he was talking about you after we heard about Magnus… I should’ve seen it sooner and I should've challenged him.” She shakes his head. “There’s no use talking about what I should have done. What I’m going to do is be better. I will do better.”

Alec shakes his head, his free hand pushing at each of his eyes. “I should’ve been honest with you to begin with.”

“No, Alec,” Maryse utters, “don’t put this on yourself. We didn’t make you feel safe and that’s on your father and me. Don’t ever think that any of this could be your fault.”

“What’s going to happen now?” asks Alec.

There is a gentle look in his mother’s eye. She appears now kinder than Magnus has ever seen her. Perhaps it’s because her husband isn’t present. “I’m going to separate from your father.” Alec ducks his head, his jaw tight, and Maryse leans forward a little more, trying to get a look at his face. “Alec…”

“You shouldn’t do that because of me,” he utters and Magnus inhales sharply, fighting to keep it silent, because that is _exactly_ why Maryse should do so.

“My children come first, always,” says Maryse, lifts a hand to his cheek. “This is for the best. I promise.”

Alec nods, apparently just unsure of how to react. His mother’s thumb passes gently across his cheek before she drops her hand and turns her dark eyes to Magnus. She holds such a resemblance to her son now; soft, sincere. Those eyes hold so much.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, to him this time. “I should never have jumped to conclusions about you. I made a judgement and I was wrong. Jace has talked to Clary about what she said and how it made him think. Apparently she’s beside herself.”

Magnus shakes his head. “It’s not her fault,” he mutters.

“No, it’s mine,” says Maryse. “And Jace’s. Isabelle apparently is the only sensible one among us.”

Alec chuckles weakly. “What a world.”

Magnus smiles. It’s good to hear him joking. Having his mother take such a drastic U-turn to supporting him rather than shunning him, thinking himself the cause of his parent’s separation, losing touch with his father, it was a lot to process in such a short span of time.

“I want you to know,” begins Maryse, her eyes back on Alec now, “that you will always have my support. Whenever you want it, you will always have a home with me.”

Alec stands. Magnus wonders if he might simply leave. He appears close enough to tears that Magnus wouldn’t be surprised if he just storms out. Maryse rises to her feet with him, reaching his hesitant hand to his arm. Alec pushes it aside and Magnus’s heart drops, relaxing when Alec throws his arm around his mother, hugs her tightly.

Maryse exhales in soft surprise, embraces him in turn. A single tear rolls down her cheek as she rests her head upon her son’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she whispers, sniffs back a sob. “I’m so sorry.”

Alec shakes his head, but doesn’t speak. Magnus turns his head, stares into the flames in the hearth beneath the mantel. It feels too personal, too private.

Magnus barely remembers his own mother. He hears her voice in his dreams sometimes, but he doesn’t have any photographs. As terrible as it is, he is forgetting her face. Her features have been becoming less and less defined in his mind’s eye and her voice changes just so slightly every time he dreams of her.

Loathe as he is to admit it, it _hurts_ to see Alec with his mother like this. There is always that pang in his heart when he sees families together, children with their mothers, and it makes him feel terrible. Jealousy is ugly and disgusting and Magnus hates it. It’s the worst emotion.

Alec releases his mother from the hug, the first to pull away, and Maryse presses a gentle hand to his cheek. She turns on Magnus next and he stands to meet her, parting his lips to speak and not knowing what he’s going to say. This isn’t about him after all. As it turns out, he doesn’t have to say anything at all.

“I know I was unwelcoming to you at the start of the week,” she says, glances to her son and back to Magnus, “but seeing you stand by Alec… it’s what every mother wants for her children.” She braces her hands to Magnus’s shoulders, holding him gently. “Thank you… for loving my boy.”

The hug comes unexpectedly, but Magnus quickly overcomes his surprise and sinks into it, his hands lifting to hold her. He can’t remember what his own mother’s hugs were like. Maryse hugs him gentle, but close, like he’s something precious that she doesn’t want to let go and that tightness in Magnus’s chest eases a little.

Alec is looking at them softly, his lips turned in a fond kind of smile.

Maryse inhales sharply as she pulls back, a hand lifting to wipe at her eyes, and clearing her throat. “I suppose you’ll both want to start packing soon…?” she guesses, a soft tremor in her words, like she can’t bear to have Alec out of sight.

“There’s a bus to the station just after twelve,” says Alec with a soft nod and a small voice. Magnus glances around the room, looking for a clock and finding none. They must be leaving it a little tight. The morning has been more hectic than either of them had accounted for.

Maryse sniffs and nods. “Well, I… I could get someone to drive you. One of the staff—”

“Mom,” Alec murmurs, drawing her gaze to him, “we’ll be fine. We’ll be okay.”

She stares at him a long moment, her eyes fond and soft like Alec is someone who needs protecting. It’s how she should look at him, how she should have always looked at him. Alec deserves that. He deserves to be cared for by his family, to have his mother care about his safety and his happiness. He deserves to be loved.

Maryse places a hand to Alec’s shoulder. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye, okay?”

Alec nods, looks to Magnus and tilts his head in a beckoning kind of gesture. In silence, they ascend the stairs. Alec leads the way back to their room, but Magnus pauses halfway up, looks back to Maryse. He sees nothing but kindness in her then and he knows this is her true nature.

It’s a nice sight to see.

Maybe, finally, everything is falling into place.

* * *

They pack in a thoughtful kind of quiet.

Alec's mind is filled with concerns and confusions, doubts and fears. More than anything though, is the memories. His father may be a difficult man, a cruel man at times, but he is Alec's father and he is the only one Alec will ever have. The anxiety that he will never make amends with his father is mounting into fear. The guilt at considering that he is responsible for his parents separation, and, worse, that he feels relief at his father's absence, gnaws at his stomach.

It is quick enough to be swept from his mind, however, when he notices the little things.

Magnus changes his outfit for the journey back, dons a shirt with a camouflage-type pattern. Fashion is a method of expression for him. Alec has figured out as much by now, and this particular change of his shirt concerns him a little.

Perhaps he wants to be invisible. Maybe he feels as though he doesn’t belong here. Alec’s chest hurts when he considers that might be the reasoning behind it and he pauses halfway through packing, tossing his folded clothes to his suitcase and approaching Magnus when he emerges from the bathroom, having touched up his eyeliner too.

“I think we should talk,” he says, as gently as he can, not wanting Magnus to think that he’s upset.

It doesn’t seem to work. Magnus’s expression falls into something unreadable, something stony and disheartened, and he ducks his gaze with a mirthless chuckle. His hand lifts to absent touch his cartilage piercing. “That’s never good,” he murmurs, turns his head away. “Is this going to be something like ‘we’re never going to see each other one we get home’ or…?”

“What?” Alec exclaims, shakes his head and reaches for Magnus’s hand. “No, hey, it’s nothing like that. Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Who says I’m worried?”

Alec gives him a knowing kind of look. “You’ve changed into camo and you keep fiddling with your jewellery.”

Magnus stares at him, a strange kind of expression on his face. “Alec…” he says, his voice quite slow. “You’re getting very observant.” He sighs softly, glances aside. “Okay, it's just… seeing you with your mother, it made me think about my childhood. I guess it’s just made me a little… wistful, maybe?”

“Well, that’s understandable,” says Alec, squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry you had to see my mom when she was figuring things out about me. She was never really like that. She… She seems more like herself now.” He regards Magnus with a long look. “Are you upset because—”

“I’m not upset,” utters Magnus, a little sullen.

Biting back a protest, Alec takes a breath, electing to be understanding about this, to think it through. “Do you want to talk about her?” he asks. “Your mom?”

Magnus shakes his head. “No, not… not today. Not like this.” He sighs and lifts a hand to palm at the nape of his neck. “I want to go home.”

There is a beat of silence and Magnus drops his hand in a heavy kind of way, refusing to meet Alec’s eyes and, with a start, Alec realises that he’s ashamed. Admitting that he wanted to be home is not something that Alec thinks he needs to feel embarrassed about in the slightest. If he were Magnus, he’d want to be home too.

Ragnor is a good dad. Despite Alec’s standard and own experiences of dad’s being pretty poor, he still knows good when he sees it. Magnus is close with his dad, closer than Alec had ever been with either of his parents. Maybe, if things continue to go well, he could be close like that with his own mother one day.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus apologises suddenly, causing Alec to frown his confusion. “I know I’m being difficult. It’s stupid. I just…” He sighs, shakes his head. “When I was younger and I got emotional, I’d just stop talking completely. I’m not trying to be difficult.”

Alec shakes his head. “You’re not being difficult,” he says. “You’re human, Magnus. You can’t hold yourself to such a high standard so much of the time.”

Gold eyes lift to his face, finally looking at him, _actually_ looking at him. His lips parted, as if to speak, but he doesn’t; maybe he can’t. He looks lost. Alec lifts a hand to curl his fingers beneath Magnus’s chin, guides his head up a fraction. The kiss they share is chaste, barely a brush of their lips, and neither hold it for long.

Alec drops his forehead to Magnus’s own, pushing his tongue out to wet the press of his lips, swallowing hard, his mouth suddenly very dry. It isn’t a sad kiss. The shortness of it only makes it more tender, more meaningful. Alec sighs.

“I’m taking you home,” he says, his eyes closing tighter when Magnus gently adjusts his head where it rests against Alec’s own. “We’re going home.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec says his goodbyes to his family. On the plane ride home, he reflects on everything he has learned from Magnus's influence and vows to make an effort in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @Vallier, @codenamepenguin, @Tan27, and @Malecfan09 for your comments on the last chapter!
> 
> I think this is somehow the penultimate chapter (or one before the penultimate)? I literally have no idea how this snuck up on me so I'm sorry for the lack of warning - it shocked me as I was writing it. Even I don't know what's going on.
> 
> Regardless, thank you so much if you've made it this far. It's way longer than I ever expected and I know I've been a bit of a mess, so I'm even more grateful for people sticking with it. I hope to see you for the final(?) instalment!

Their exit from the lodge is nothing like either of them had imagined at the start of the week.

Alec himself had pictured a graceless retreat with exactly zero contact with anyone—except perhaps Isabelle—but he had never imagined it like this. Jace and Isabelle came to help them with their bags. Clary did a final sweep of the room for them, looking for things they may have left behind.

Downstairs, his mother and her father are talking in low voices. Maryse is apparently telling him of everything that has happened. The elder man nods every so often, his hand comes forward to rest upon his daughter’s upper arm, his eyes are soft and understanding. Halfway down the stairs, Alec falters.

She’s crying. His mother is crying.

Alec hurries his way down the stairs, slipping past his siblings and approaching his mother, who hastily wipes her eyes and turns his him with a shaky smile. “Hi, sweetheart,” she greets. “Are you all packed?”

“Yeah,” says Alec, carefully slow. “Mom, you… you know you don’t have to worry about us, right? We’re gonna be okay.”

“I don’t want things to go back to how they were,” Maryse says, shaking her head. “It just feels like… like when you go back to New York everything is just going to go back to the way it was before.” She exhales a soft sigh. “I want us to be a real family… and I want to see you more often if—if that’s okay…”

Never before could Alec have imagined that, but—if he is honest with himself—it’s all he ever wanted to hear. “I’d like that,” he says with a short nod and his mother gives him a soft look. “How about I come over next weekend? I don’t know, we could… we could have dinner or something?”

Maryse nods. “Will you bring Magnus?”

Alec glances back to Magnus, looking him up and down. There are darkening circles under his eyes, his movements slow and careful as he sets his suitcase upright. He looks tired. Alec feels that familiar tug of self-loathing pull at his stomach, hating himself for subjecting Magnus to this week with his family; especially now, after he knows what the young man has already been through.

“I’ll ask him,” says Alec with a soft shrug, “but I… I don’t know if he wants to keep seeing me once we get home.”

His mother narrows her eyes in confusion. “Why would he not want to…?” she begins and her eyes widen in sorrow. “Oh, sweetheart, this isn’t because of what happened with your father is it? Because I never meant to cause any problems with you and Magnus and I’m so sorry if anything I did has affected your relationship.”

Alec shakes his head. “No, it’s… it’s me. I’ve been… I’ve been difficult this past week.”

“You had a fight,” his grandfather says in a thoughtful kind of softness and Alec looks to him in soft surprise. “It’s okay. Relationships take effort. Things don’t just magically work out, Alec. If you’re committed to this, then you’ll have to put some effort into it. Love is a choice… So, whatever you choose, you stick with that and it’ll be alright.”

Nodding shakily, Alec flits his gaze between his mother and his grandfather. Maryse is looking at her father with a special kind of fondness and she gently holds his arm like he’s fragile but she never wants to let him go. Alec glances back to Magnus. He knows that feeling.

Magnus likes to pretend he isn’t fragile but, at least in Alec’s mind, he is someone who needs protecting. Alec knows he shouldn’t think like that, knows that Magnus would hate him if he ever voiced his beliefs aloud, so he keeps them to himself. From this day and beyond, he will do what he can to ensure Magnus’s happiness.

He’s been staring too long. Magnus approaches him with a soft frown, touching his hand but not holding it. His fingers skim Alec’s inner wrist.

“Are you okay?” he asks, apparently satisfied by Alec’s nod. “Ready to go? Any later and we’ll miss our bus.”

Alec turns to him, takes both of his hands and holds him tightly. “I love you,” he says and Magnus tilts his head, eyes narrowing, “and I don’t want to go back to being strangers. I want…” He swallows hard. “I want _you_ and I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but… you said before that you wanted to know how I felt and that’s how I feel. I needed to tell you before we left and everything changed.”

Magnus blinks through a soft frown. “Alec, what would change? This doesn’t have to change.”

“Really?” Alec asks, not bothering to conceal his anxiety. “You’re not just saying that because…?”

It hangs unspoken in the air. They are surrounded by Alec’s family and the ongoing lie of their relationship hasn’t yet been unveiled. Alec wonders if it ever will be, feels that—right now, at least—it would do no good for his family to discover his scheming.

“Really.” Magnus untangles one of his hands from Alec’s own, lifting it to cup the young man’s cheek. “I love you too, Alexander.”

In front of his mother, his grandfather, his siblings, Alec gently fists his hands into the lapels of Magnus’s jacket, pulling him close and capturing his lips in a tender kiss. It’s hard at first, desperate relief fuelling his movements. Magnus’s hands come to hold his face, his touch light upon Alec’s cheeks.

It’s not for show. None of their kisses have ever really been for show, but the pressure to keep up the pretence to Alec’s family had always been a factor in the back of their minds. Not this time. This is just for them.

This is real.

When they break apart, Magnus keeps his eyes closed for a long moment. Alec swallows hard, tracing the curve of his jaw with his thumb. He’s so beautiful. He is easily the most beautiful person Alec has seen in his entire life and, now, he’s allowed to think it without a trace of confusion or guilt.

“Are you ready?” Alec asks and Magnus’s eyes open, blinking up at him.

Magnus nods. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “I’m ready.”

Maryse embraces Magnus before they go, telling him that he’s always welcome to visit, that she would be delighted to see him again. Alec’s grandfather touches both their arms, giving them each a soft smile, but saying nothing. He doesn’t need to say a word. The approval and fondness comes through in his eyes.

“Where’s nana?” Alec asks his mother, an afterthought, and Maryse makes a face, somewhere between disappointment and relief.

“She went back to New York with your father,” she says. “If she wants to reach out, she can, but it doesn't seem likely. I, for one, am not going to make and effort to stay in touch with either of them.”

Alec nods, that mixture of relief and guilt, so familiar now, tightening his chest. He doesn’t want to see his grandmother again, or his father for that matter. That guilt eases a little as he bids farewell to his family, embracing his brother and sister in turn. Jace claps him on the back and Isabelle squeezes him so tight he worries for a second that she might crack his ribs.

These are the people who matter to him, the only people whose opinion he should care for.

He leaves Clary with a nod, still unsure how he feels about her spilling Magnus’s secrets to her boyfriend.

The damage her gossiping had done almost tore Alec and Jace apart. It isn’t entirely her fault, of course. Jace had made his choice on how to react and he chose poorly. Alec is choosing to blame Clary simply because he and Jace are in a good place. They are brothers again and Alec isn’t about to jeopardise that by being aloof with him.

When Alec pauses at the front door to look back at his family, he puts it to the back of his mind. Maybe, in his most hopeful heart, Alec believes that, now, they can all be okay.

* * *

Magnus sleeps on the plane ride back.

Three hours into the flight, he rests his head on Alec’s shoulder. Alec is murmuring to him, telling him about his mother’s open invitation for them to visit for dinner. Magnus eventually stops replying and Alec tilts his head forward to get a better look at his face, smiling softly as he sees Magnus’s slack expression.

Alec’s glad to see him sleeping. He pushes Magnus’s hair back, presses a lingering kiss to his temple and his boyfriend doesn’t so much as stir. _His boyfriend_. It’s strange to even think, considering that they had started the week with an immovable ‘fake’ placed in front of that title.

On the aisle side, a woman is speaking to the person in the seat in front of her. At the gap between the chairs in front of Magnus, bright eyes peer up at Alec, a small hand poking through the gap to grab at the safety instruction sheet at the back of the chair. Alec smiles, glances to the side when the woman next to him pats the hand and pushes it back through the gap.

“Hey, behave,” she chides. “People are trying to sleep, sweetie.” She glances to Alec, her voice low. “I’m sorry about him. He’s grown out of the ‘put everything in his mouth’ stage and rolled straight into the ‘put his hands on everything’ stage.”

“It’s fine,” says Alec, gives her a gentle smile.

He watches absently as the woman in front turns back to murmur something to the one beside Alec, passing a baby back a seat. The woman on Alec’s aisle side took the baby with a soft coo, glances to her side and meets Alec’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, I know the anxiety everyone feels about having a baby next to them on a plane,” she says. “She’s been really good though and she’s usually very quiet.”

“It’s okay,” Alec assures her, smiling at the baby in her arms.

The child stares back at him with huge, blue eyes, chewing on a pacifier and Alec tilts his head through a grin. He has always loved kids. Taking care of Isabelle, and later Jace, Alec has lived his life taking care of others and he wouldn’t have it any other way; even when he _was_ a child he dreamed of a future with his own kids.

A way-too-soon thought surfaces in his mind and he flushes, looks to Magnus—asleep at his side. Magnus has never come across as the kind of person to wish for children. Alec doesn’t know what it is about him. Maybe it’s because he feels free, like a kite without a string, an untethered spirit who goes wherever life takes him.

Magnus can’t be tied down by anything. All those trips Ragnor had taken him on, Magnus had grown accustomed to travelling, to going wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, seeing the world and capturing everything, thriving in different cultures while keeping his own close to his heart. It’s because of this very nature—this free spiritedness—that Alec is reluctant to even ask for a deeper commitment with him.

Alec’s grandfather is right, however; he’s usually right, it turned out. If love is a choice then Alec will choose Magnus over anything.

He turns his head to rest upon Magnus’s own, breathing out slowly. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, lower than a whisper, taking the opportunity of Magnus’s rare unconsciousness to utter his compliment.

Magnus sleeps for hours. Alec reads the copy of Jane Eyre he had snuck into his rucksack. It must be his hundredth time reading it, but he sees everything in a new light now. He had used to see himself in Jane’s character, fantasising his way through a difficult life, wishing that he could fall in love, marry and have children with a man who cared for him.

He knows now what a ‘difficult life’ actually is. It’s what Magnus has had. Not that the young man’s terrible past diminished Alec’s own issues, but Alec knows now what he is and what he has taken for granted. He has siblings who support him and a mother who loves him. All they had to do was talk and Magnus had helped with that more than he knows.

Magnus has reset the world. Everything is new and beautiful and Alec sees himself clearer than ever before. He sees Magnus as he is, strong and beautiful and free. He says it too, whispers it into Magnus’s hair, breathes in the intoxicating scent of whatever product he uses that somehow gets his hair sculpted but allows it to remain soft.

For an hour or two, he dozes a little, his head resting against Magnus’s own. Turbulence jolts them into wakefulness and Magnus sits bolt upright, wide eyed, grabbing Alec’s hand in the process. It’s a brief hint of pain that Alec barely registers, already launching into assurance.

“It’s okay,” Alec murmurs, leaning into him a little. “It’s just a bit of turbulence. You were sleeping.”

Magnus nods, delicately wiping the grit of sleep from his eyes, expertly avoiding smudging his makeup. “How long was I out?”

“Just a couple of hours,” says Alec. “I’m glad you slept.”

Magnus hums. “Yeah, me too.” He turns a hesitant gaze on Alec, gives a soft shrug. “It’s been some week.”

Alec’s mouth twists in sympathy and apology. “Yeah, it certainly has.”

They are quiet for a moment, each lost in thought. Magnus disentangles his hand from Alec’s own, lifts it to curl his fingers under the young man’s chin and leaning up to press a sleepy kiss to the corner of his mouth. Alec hums and pushes gently into it, closing his eyes just so briefly.

“Do we have a plan,” he asks, canting his head, “for when we get back?”

Magnus frowns softly. “What do you mean?”

Alec quirks an uncertain smile. “I mean…” He shrugs, flicks his tongue out to wet his lips, his mouth suddenly very dry. As far as he's come, he still has no idea what he's doing when it comes to Magnus. “Do you want to… I don’t know, maybe get a drink sometime?”

Magnus laughs at him, taking Alec’s hand in a decisive grip. “Why are you awkwardly asking me on a date as if we weren’t proclaiming our love to one another not five hours ago?” Alec flushes and glances to the floor, his gaze drawn back up when Magnus squeezes his hand. “Hey,” he says in a soft voice, his eyes gleaming gold. “I’d love to 'maybe get a drink sometime'.”

“I just… I don’t know how to act around you anymore,” Alec admits. “I know exactly how I feel, but everything we’ve been up until now was fake. It wasn’t real and I… I want to do right by you. I want to take you out on some proper dates. I want to see who we are when we’re not pretending.”

Magnus’s eyes are steady at he stares at Alec. “I wasn’t pretending... At least, towards the end there, I wasn't pretending.”

Alec shakes his head. “No, I mean… You know what I mean. How we began, it was a lie, and I don’t think it counts, Magnus. I think we need to… we need to start from scratch or I’ll just be thinking about how badly I screwed up out first meeting forever. I want to be with you more than anything, but I want to do this right. I want to make an effort.”

Magnus tilts his head, straightens up in his seat. He smooths out the front of his jacket, adjusts the cartilage piercing in his ear, and shifts himself a little to so he can better face Alec. It is only when he holds out a hand, palm down and knuckles up, that Alec realises what he is doing.

“Magnus Bane,” he introduces himself with a sly smirk.

Alec echoes his smile, cups the palm of Magnus’s hand. “Alec Lightwood,” he replies, ducks his head and brushes a kiss to Magnus’s knuckles, causing the young man to chuckle softly and Alec to lift his gaze to Magnus’s own.

His laughter is a wonderful sound. His eyes are gold and gorgeous, even in the dim light, and Alec’s heart has never been fuller. This man has changed his life, turned all his doubts and fears into joy and love and, although they still have a ways to go, Alec is excited for them to be together without shame. He's eager to find out who he is now that he feels comfortable in his own skin. The whole world is open for him.

With a soft tilt of his head, Alec gives Magnus’s hand another, lingering kiss before meeting those beautiful eyes once again and knowing that he is hopelessly and irretrievably in love.

“Magnus Bane,” he says, watching a soft fondness narrow those golden eyes. “It is... _so_ good to meet you.”


	36. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer in New York is a season that Alec has never enjoyed, finding the stifling heat contrasts his cover-up clothes. Now, months into his relationship with Magnus, he sees a new beauty in everything he thought he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the final time, a huge thank you to those who those who left kudos, and particularly those who left comments on the last chapter: @Tan27, @Vallier, @Cptkai_87, @Malecfan09, @codenamepenguin, @MaLeo, @Maryliz2121, and @Melpomene55.
> 
> I am so, so grateful to the support you have given via your comments over the course of this story. This was the hardest one I have ever written both in the sense that the plotline fought me at every turn, and that it's the first story I ever received hate comments on. I want to thank all my positive commenters for not letting me give up (even when I was so close to giving up) and for carrying me through with your kind words. This was finished because of all of you and I'm really thankful for every positive word and helpful advice, so, really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all.
> 
> If you're interested, check back in soon for a brand new story, or come say hi on Tumblr [@HarkaSun](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/harkasun)!

Winter melts into the blossoming bloom of spring, rising into the sweltering heat of summer, and the city becomes a stifling cesspool of shorts and sweat.

New York has never been more beautiful.

Alec saunters down the streets in a grey vest top with a blue wave printed over the chest, black, denim shorts that come above the knees. It’s a revealing kind of outfit, one that Alec would never have dreamed of wearing just half a dozen months prior, but he is comfortable now in his own body.

He is typing out a hasty text to Magnus as he walks, telling him he’s stopping by the studio. They’ve been going strong since December of last year, a little over six months now, and Alec has never been happier in his life.

University had started summer break barely two weeks prior, for which Alec had aced all exams and was on track for a first degree at the end of next year. He’s been able to cut down on his therapy, the sessions monthly now rather than weekly, not requiring so much input regarding his home life or his mental wellbeing.

Alec knows now—due to some very helpful input from his therapist—that his father had been abusive, but had elected against legal action when it was suggested to him. He is finally free and he doesn’t need to dredge it all up again. He hasn’t seen his father since the vacation and he intends to keep it that way. He would be quite happy if he never heard a word of his father again.

He goes to the gym with Jace and Isabelle once a week, keeping himself healthy and—more importantly—busy. He has lunch with his mother fortnightly and she teaches him how to cook. He spends time with Magnus whenever they have a spare moment.

It isn’t all that often that he gets to see Magnus these days. The art student is busy with school, having compiled a number of sculptures and sketches to build up his portfolio and finalising it all into one last piece. He’s very secretive about it and Alec knows better than to pry. He’ll see it when he sees it, when Magnus is satisfied.

His mobile pings and Alec grins as he reads the string of hearts and smiley emojis that Magnus has messaged in response.

The Hunter’s Moon is unassuming and tucked away and by far his favourite café in the city. He and Magnus have been here too many times to count. Alec slips through the door, casting the barista behind a counter a quick smile.

“Hey, Maia,” he greets, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Strawberry and cream frappe, please.”

“Ah, how is our young sculptor?”

Alec chuckles softly. “Too busy to leave the studio most days,” he admits, watches Maia input the order into the till. He hands her the money before she has to tell him how much it is, so used to this café by now that he knows all the prices of Magnus’s regulars off by heart. “He’s been working non-stop to get his final piece done before the end of term. Still won’t let me see it.”

“Must be a big piece. He’s been at it since the start of the year.”

“Yeah, well he’s still had classes, and he had his portfolio and sketches and planning… He’s been busy, that’s for sure.”

He pays her for the drink and leaves the café with a wave goodbye, strolling through the bustling city streets with frappe in hand. The doors of the Brooklyn Academy of Arts are unlocked for students working through the holidays, seniors working to meet the deadline for their final pieces. There are staff still working too, grading papers and writing reports.

Alec makes his way to the sculpture studio unchallenged. It’s the largest room in the building, high ceilings and polished, easy-to-clean floors, all wall-high windows and natural light. There’s an incomplete wall halving the room. It always smells like smoke and dust. Alec loves it because this is where Magnus creates wonders.

Alec has the privilege to watch him work sometimes. The things he does in this room with just a block of stone and a chisel is insane. Alec can barely draw a stick figure. Magnus is an artist and Alec has absolute faith that, one day, his works will be in museums, bought and treasured by art enthusiasts, worth millions.

He keeps insisting that he isn’t putting his final piece forward for the end of term exhibit. Alec is hoping to talk him out of that mindset today. Magnus is the most talented person he knows and he deserves for the whole world to see how good he is at what he does.

It’s the thought on his mind as he steps into the studio. “Magnus?” he calls for his boyfriend, his voice light so as not to startle him, knowing that life as a sculptor is pedantic and one wrong move would ruin weeks or even months of work.

There is a small scuffle from the other side of the wall and Magnus comes around the corner. He is in his sculpting clothes, worn, greying jeans held with suspenders over a white vest shirt. His hair is held back with an indigo headband, matching his dark eyeliner and eyeshadow. A light sheen of sweat is beading tiny droplets across his brow.

“Hey,” he greets, a little breathily, chuckling softly when Alec meets him for a kiss. “I’m covered in sweat and marble dust.”

“You’ve got a good excuse; it’s the hottest day of the year, and you’re stunning,” says Alec, hands him his frappe. “How’s it coming along?”

Magnus hums as he takes a long drink through the straw. “Pretty much done. I’m just being a perfectionist about it,” he admits, lifting his gaze to the young law student. “You want to see?”

Alec blinks hard. “Your final piece?”

The query is met with a roll of Magnus’s eyes. “No, my dick. What’d you think?”

Alec snorts. “No need to be snarky,” he mutters, concealing the smirk that he feels tugging at his lips just long enough to come to Magnus’s side and lean to whisper in his ear, “and I’ve seen _everything_ … but I won’t say no to seeing it again.”

“Later,” Magnus promises in a sensual whisper and an unfairly flirtatious wink.

Alec palms at the nape of his neck, the hottest day of the year suddenly feeling all that much hotter, and follows Magnus through to the other half of the room. It’s empty of people and almost empty of sculptures. There is one that unequivocally dominates the space, however.

For a moment, Alec can do nothing but stare.

It is a sculpture of five parts, five statues of the same man at varying stages. They are all carved from the same base, together in a line.

The first, he is crouched, his arms covering his head. The stone where the face should be is cut roughly like static, no actual face visible. It feels distressing. It moves upwards, gaining height as the man slowly stands, slowly lowers his arms from where they covered his head in the first. The face becomes clearer and more defined with every statue.

On the final man, Alec’s gaze lingers. The statue is stood tall and proud, arms pushed back at his sides as if presenting his chest to the sky. A loose toga-like wisp of cloth is carved to cover his crotch, flowing around his legs and chest as if caught in a breeze. His face is angled upwards slightly. Alec’s eyes widen as he recognises the features, the mop of hair, the lines of the face.

“Is that…” he begins, glancing to the artist, who stands, anxiously fiddling with his cartilage piercing. “Magnus, is that… me?”

Magnus hesitates a second before nodding slowly. “Yes, you… you said I could sculpt you for my final piece. I—I understand if you want to take back your consent.”

“Magnus, no, god,” says Alec, shaking his head and coming to take his hands. “You’re outstanding. It’s beautiful.” He turns to gaze up at the sculpture. “You are putting it forward for the exhibit next week, aren’t you?”

“May I? This is… it’s very personal to you.”

Alec snaps his gaze back to him. “Magnus, of course! I told you that you could use me for your portfolio and I knew it was going to lead up to your final piece. You deserve to show everyone how talented you are. Promise me you’ll put it forward.”

Magnus swallows hard and nods, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Okay… Okay, I will… Thank you, Alexander. This is some of my best work and I couldn’t have done it without you.” He reaches for the nape of Alec’s neck, pulling him in slightly. “You’ve unlocked something in me. I will forever be grateful for that.”

Alec clutches his hands to Magnus’s waist. “Kiss me?”

Magnus smiles, lifts his head to press his lips against Alec’s own, rising a little on his toes to kiss him properly. Alec leans down slightly so Magnus doesn’t have to balance so precariously, kisses him back, harder now. His hands are on Magnus’s hips, holding him close.

The room brightens suddenly, the sun emerging from behind a smattering of clouds. It hits the sculpture and the marble surface glows, rays of light bouncing from the carved angles. Alec pulls himself distractedly from the kiss, gazing absently at the sculpture. It seems to absorb the light, making the sun its own.

Magnus follows his gaze, leaning against Alec’s side and dropping his head to his boyfriend’s shoulder, just letting Alec hold him. “’I saw the angel in the marble’,” he says in a dreamy and distant kind of voice and Alec glances to him, “’and I carved until I set him free’.”

“Who said that?” asks Alec with a curious frown.

“Michelangelo.”

Alec turns his head and stares up at the sculptures, the way the sun bounces off the marble. “You set me free,” he utters in soft, stunned realisation. “You’ve been carving me from the moment we met… You freed me, Magnus.”

“Give yourself more credit, love,” murmurs Magnus. “You worked hard to get yourself free. You went to therapy, Alec. You’ve done so much.” He lifts a hand to Alec’s cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

Alec leans his head into his boyfriend’s hand, a small smile tugging at his lips. Magnus has such an affect on him. He is the brightest source of light in Alec’s life and it is so wonderful to have him like this, to be with him openly and fully, uncaring of what anyone else thinks of them.

The world isn’t as prejudiced as Alec’s father would have had him believe. Alec’s classmates don’t look twice when Magnus comes to collect him for dinner back at his apartment; no one cares that he’s gay or that his boyfriend wears makeup and jewellery. Magnus’s friends are equally as accepting, even if a few took a little time to warm up to him. Alec assumes that Magnus had told them of their initial meeting, so he understood completely when they practically interviewed him upon their first meeting.

If he had felt on display then, he certainly feels it now. Looking up at the sculpture, Alec sees his own face staring back and him and, now, he doesn’t mind so much—even if he believes it to be strange how Magnus perceives him.

“Do I really look like that?” he asks, glances to his boyfriend. “You’ve made me so… ethereal.”

Magnus steps behind him, wraps his arms around Alec and resting his chin upon his shoulder. “It’s how I see you,” he murmurs, kisses the underside of his jaw. “My angel…”

Alec scoffs softly, shakes his head. “I don’t think that pet name is going to fly.”

“You making angel puns, angel?”

Rolling his eyes, Alec huffs his complaint and utters a fond, joking phrase he hasn’t said in months, not since the trip, even. “Hate you.”

As usual—as if running on autopilot—Magnus gives his response, half muffled into the side of Alec’s neck. “Shush, you love me.”

Turning in his boyfriend’s arms, Alec faces him properly, liking how Magnus’s arms are draped over his shoulders, wrists linked together at the nape of his neck. Alec lifts his hands to Magnus’s waist, mimicking a slow dance position. He had seen it so many times, watching from the side of the dance floor at all those school gatherings, never able to participate because he couldn’t have what he wanted. He couldn’t dance with who he wanted.

Golden eyes lift to his own, such softness there in his gaze. Alec could dance with him now if he wanted to, and that freedom was everything.

He knows that Magnus is claiming that Alec loves him as a joke, but it’s true and they both know it. He’s certain of it, whereas before he had rarely been certain of anything. Now, however, when he looks at this man and considers everything he has been through, everything they have accomplished together, he understands what he has been missing this whole time.

Here, in Magnus’s arms, he finally feels at peace. His embrace feels like home.

“I do love you,” he whispers in response to Magnus’s teasing remark, holding him close and never wanting to let go.

If he is very lucky, he’ll never have to.


End file.
